The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all
by Hannah-1888
Summary: Being a reprint from the private reminiscences of Hermione J. Granger; an over-achiever who will always maintain she was just doing her job. SS/HG
1. One

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 _AN: Here I am, again. This story originally got to nine chapters and was then left unfinished. I'm now continuing it and fully intend to complete it : )_

* * *

 **One**

I know people have always thought me bossy. I know people have often thought me opinionated. I _know_ that I am sometimes hard-headed and forthright. And I know these traits are not always appreciated or easily tolerated. Ron taught me that lesson at the age of eleven and I've never forgotten it.

I've never felt a need to change, however. Perhaps I'm not a person who needs a lot friends.

I'm not ashamed to take an idea and run with it. I'm not afraid to stand up for what I believe in. I'll not be cowed by those who call me an interfering busybody or a pious do-gooder behind my back. Or sometimes to my face. I can't help it if I feel strongly about certain issues that affect people and the world we live in. I can't help it if I fight tenaciously for what I believe in. All I hope is I've learned to find the balance between informed advocacy and the single-minded, uninformed crusades of my formative years. Whisper quietly: _S.P.E.W_.

Despite recognising the importance of less haste and more consideration of the facts, on both sides of an argument, many would still curl their lip at me and write me off as nothing more than a trouble-maker. My manager once muttered that the only thing the status quo means to me is a seventies rock band.

I suppose I've gained enough self-awareness over time to concede this to them freely. The point, I feel, is that society needs a few trouble-makers like me. No doubt someone would read this and decree me insufferably self-important. Perhaps they're right—I'm not going to begrudge anyone their opinion, after all.

I have caused a certain amount of trouble over the years, it is true. I expect certain persons within the Ministry, and even the wider Wizarding world, rue the day I was given a position within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I hasten to add, however, I am not alone in my beliefs. I have been joined by many supporting voices in my career—would never have achieved half as much were it not so.

House-elf reform was, of course, always at the top of my list. This time, instead of making unfounded assumptions and patronising the creatures, I headed a small team which undertook a thorough consultation process with the elves. The results of which were controversial, but we fought hard to get them acknowledged. House-elves now receive the same rights as any employee in the Wizarding world. Some even live independently to their place of work—a scheme which, I'm happy to say, was pioneered solely by the Headmistress at Hogwarts. There is now a thriving elf community growing on the fringe of the castle and the village of Hogsmeade.

The work was much and varied during this period of my life. It was not, by any means, always as exciting and stimulating. There was much that was mundane and procedural in-between the larger projects, but in hindsight, still rewarding in its own way.

My next major undertaking for the department caused just as many waves as the House-elf reform, although in my defence this was not what I set out to do. My decision to develop an extensive ecological survey of the magical flora and fauna of the British Isles was only meant as an updating to previous studies which, to my mind, had become out-of-date and were partially incomplete in the first place. The Ministry were happy with this new project of mine. What trouble could I possibly cause whilst compiling habitats and mapping plant and animal species? They were probably surprised by how dry and old-fashioned it sounded.

For my own part, I thought it would be an indispensable study to help us understand the natural environment we live in. It's all very well to work within somewhere which professes to 'control' and 'regulate' Magical creatures, when, actually, we had no proper idea of what, and how much of it, was out there. And the Ministry had given even less attention to the study of flora; there being very little need for regulation in this area.

Mostly, I was enthused because I knew it would be no easy undertaking. It was a project that would need the assistance and co-operation of many people. It took a bit of persuasive prowess on my part, my reputation even then preceding me, to round up a team unafraid of working with me. I had Herbologists, specialists from within my department, and elsewhere in the Ministry, and anyone else who was eager to take part in collating the data. I say eager; I think the pay had more to do with it.

We could not, of course, record every single organism that existed, but we devised a comprehensive sample that covered the country. We also had some tailored charms to aide our survey—to ensure it was as rigorous as we could manage.

Admittedly, it took months; months of long hours and hard work. We went out in teams to record what we found within our assigned areas. Back at the Ministry, a colleague and I had set up a large, charmed map made up of several layers. Every time a data-set was completed, it would be spelled into the map to be analysed in detail. As we neared completion, a full picture began to unfold before us, but I'd honestly never considered that I wouldn't like what I saw.

'She's off,' someone muttered sotto voce when I demanded to see all the teams to check whether any corners were cut, or whether any methodological failing might account for the unexpected results. Because, examining the results we had now, and comparing them with what historical information we already had, threw up some alarming questions.

The concepts of conservation and preservation were ideas, naturally, not unfamiliar to me. In this instance, however, I'm afraid the effects of my tenure in the Wizarding world was showing. Muggles, I knew, had long developed these processes, but for witches and wizards, the relevance wasn't fully acknowledged—properly considered, even. There had, in the past, been some indication of certain endangered species within the country, but the crude criteria we had was based on the fact these species were naturally rare, _anywhere_ in the world one might go.

Why, for example, were Augureys apparently in decline nationwide? Why had Jobberknoll numbers dropped by over a half in the last twenty years? How could we account for the fact that areas of the Cheviot hills, known for its extensive monkshood population, were now showing signs that this particular habitat was close to being endangered? These were just a sample of curious facts that were presented to us, and we looked at each point in depth for an explanation to use in the final report.

Was it a natural predator causing these issues? Was it simply down to nature that Jobberknoll numbers were falling? We investigated this first, but couldn't prove this theory, finding no sign that some foreign species was forcing out the indigenous population. We turned next to the Muggles. Were they unknowingly interfering with Magical habitats? Observations recorded during the survey suggested that sometimes this was true. Muggle buildings had been known to encroach upon and damage the environment, but in many cases this was simply not evidenced.

Neville—Neville Longbottom—had been assisting me with the findings of the Herbologists (he was one to always offer his help to me freely) suggested to me an observation that had been slowly simmering in my own mind as we studied the map.

'Hermione,' he said. 'Do you know what these habitats—these plants and animals that are declining—have in common?'

'They all have properties important to potion-making,' I answered.

It made sense. Why else was it that Cornish pixies were thriving, but the number and location of known fairy spots was changing? Pixies are useless in potions, but fairy wings are highly prized. What is the main importance of a Jobberknoll to a witch or wizard? Is it that its feathers are essential to truth serums and Memory potions? Monkshood, I knew, in diluted form, was a key component of Pepperup Potion and most pain remedies. And Augurey feathers were also highly prized components.

Was it that we were depleting our own resources? Resources that we'd taken for granted for far too long? We had to seriously consider it as a possibility.

There were already statutory rules and regulations in place to control the harvesting of creatures for potion-making. But I knew as well as anyone they only applied to certain cases. Unicorns, for example. Neville explained rules were even more vague for the collection of plants.

As much as others might like to claim, most derogatorily, that I know-it-all, the reality is that I don't. And in all honesty, I knew very little about the potion-making industry at this time. My understanding was that it was a complex one, structured largely around private companies. responsible for such household names as Mrs Scower and Skele-gro, independent apothecaries, and freelance potioneers. That was it in a nutshell.

I put out a few feelers at the Ministry, no doubt inconveniencing people, I'm sure. It was surely not unreasonable to think such a far-reaching industry wouldn't be subject to regulation and I hoped to learn more regarding this. But when the Ministry told me that, beyond ensuring the international restrictions on the trading of protected species for use in potions were upheld, that was as far as they felt their influence needed to go, I started to think I might have been too generous in my assessment of the Ministry's competency. Surprising how often this happens.

I was informed that certain influence was wielded by a professional body, of which the majority of professionals within the industry sought membership. This was the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers and only rang a very vague bell with me.

Clearly, however, it was to this place I was going to have to aim my next questions, in order to understand what was happening and how solutions could be reached. I did not merely want to publish an incriminating report without evidence or consensus.

The survey was put on hold while we considered this new tangent and I planned a visit to the Society. Accustomed as I was, even then, to obstruction and dispute, I never anticipated to face it in this situation. After all, it seemed clear to me it was in everyone's interest to conserve our natural resources, and so, rather naively, I assumed co-operation between both sides would be a given. I was wrong. It was this presumption that left me a little unprepared when I was actually faced with complete dismissal.

Furthermore, I failed to adequately research just who and what I would be dealing with. Patience has never been a strong suit of mine; not when I have the bit between my teeth. I sought the address to the Society and took myself off there as soon as I was able, with little or no other consideration. I also think one of my colleagues in the know might have been good enough to mention the finer details I was so obviously without.

The Society was in Edinburgh, housed in an impressive, if forbidding, grey stone building with a gold plate on the wall denoting the building's purpose. I marched inside and immediately found myself in a deep red, carpeted entrance hall. There was no one present behind the high wooden desk and I stood by patiently, hearing someone pottering about in the room beyond. I gazed around my surroundings, taking in the curious stares of several portraits that hung high on the walls, but there was something else that quickly took my attention.

There was a small, marble staircase that led from the entrance hall into the building proper, and placed above the archway at the top of the stairs was a series of large wooden plaques, recording the name of each presiding officer of the Society since its founding, several hundred years ago. Any sense of my professionalism and sophistication that I liked to imagine myself as having, evaporated entirely as I read the printed gold name of the most recent president. In an instant, I felt like a little girl again—green and out of her depth.

I managed to restore my equilibrium by consoling myself that it was highly unlikely I'd be treated to an audience with Severus Snape himself, though I wished fervently I'd known of his role beforehand. I'd heard along the grapevine that he was now a professional brewer, but beyond that nothing else of note. Dealing with that man, as I easily recalled, required serious preparation.

'Albert!' shouted one of the portraits suddenly—a cursory glance at his frame revealed him to be one Libatius Borage. 'There's a girl here to see you!'

I tried not to feel too much umbrage at being decreed a "girl".

'Albert' shuffled out and revealed himself to be a stooped, old man. 'I do apologise for keeping you,' he said in a quiet voice. 'What may I do for you, Miss…?'

I drew myself up and outlined my capacity as a researcher at the Ministry, explaining that I was looking to put some questions to a resident potioneer. He was obliging; he went back into his little room to use the Floo and several minutes later, he returned saying the Director would be willing to talk to me. I was pleased not to have been fobbed off, though I feel it was my position within the Ministry that bought me my audience someone fairly high up. Still, I was satisfied.

I passed through the archway and followed a curved passageway to the right, which I saw with a quick peek skirted a rather large council chamber full of wooden benches and other fine furnishings.

I soon reached a door, upon it written 'Mr Theobald Ridley — Director'. Immediately, however, when I clapped eyes on this man, I felt he would not be as genial as the wizened old Albert at the front desk.

He was a short man with a prodigious amount of facial hair, and he sat impassively whilst I outlined the basic premise of our work on the ecological survey. I showed him how we had cause for concern and asked him, given that the Society is a professional body, what their policies were for practising potioneers and apothecaries in terms of the collection and cultivation of biological components.

To this day I assert I was not being antagonistic in any way. I was merely stating the facts as I knew them, but he took significant offence.

'If I understand you correctly, you're accusing potioneers for this supposed decline in certain species?'

I tried to explain that I was only trying to establish a cause. That this was just one other avenue to explore when others had been exhausted.

'What proof do you have?' he blustered defensively.

I was a bit taken aback by his indignation. I had not imagined he would take it so personally. I pressed that I was only looking rule out culpability, but he overrode anything else I wanted to say, puffing himself up impressively.

'I assure you, Miss Granger, we are well aware of our responsibilities and you may see our Code of Practice for further elucidation. We, patently, do no advocate such malpractice! Unless you have any evidence to support your _accusations_ , I suggest you direct your energies elsewhere!'

It was obvious I'd taken the wrong tack here; quite obvious, as I was summarily shown the way out where I stood on the pavement clutching my folders uselessly.

I had wanted to refute the idea I was bandying accusations around—to explain I was only looking for advice, but Ridley had marched off, muttering to himself about young upstarts, and a litany of other apparent ills I was responsible for. I wasn't too disheartened—I'd met his type many times before. I just hadn't quite learned to deal with them yet.

I returned to the Ministry and for the next few days studied as much information I could get about the potion-making industry, as it was then. Albert had been kind enough to give me a few publications pertaining to the Society, and from them I could see they promoted efficiency and care for those involved in the collection of plants. And it seemed they took a firm stance about using only 'freely given' elements from Magical creatures, too.

Admittedly, I could understand it was not the Society's role to make rules regarding this area, but I felt it was their responsibility to set an example, considering the size of their membership. And on the face of it, I could not find any reason to suppose the Society did not take its responsibilities seriously.

By now, however, my superiors were urging me to brief them on the findings of the survey. I was frustrated by this, knowing that when they understood the significance of what we'd found, they would inevitably start interfering and escalating matters.

In the hope of mitigating this, and having a clearer direction to take, I decided to write to Snape himself, asking simply for his assistance. I was a bit cautious about appealing to him directly, especially if Ridley had his ear. Nevertheless, I thought it'd be worth a try. I ensured to adopt as unbiased a tone as possible, stating that I had proof to disturbing declining numbers of certain species and wanted some advice. I left out any references to causes, mentioning only acting to reverse such trends. I ended my letter by writing that it was surely of huge importance to potioneers that we co-operate in order to sustain the biodiversity in the country.

It was my opinion he'd be hard pressed to dismiss me completely.

With this done, I turned my attention to researching some of the private manufacturers of potions. It seemed logical that it might be these companies that encouraged a more… damaging approach to the capturing of Jobberknolls for their feathers, for instance, rather than simply collecting up those which the bird had lost naturally. It was hardly something a company would admit lightly, I knew, and so it would take rather more stealth and subtlety on my part. Such investigative work, however, would be subject to the agreement of my superiors and I decided to put it to them during the briefing they'd scheduled.

I wish I could have anticipated the laughter.

And unfortunately, if I'd hoped to have something clearer to give to them when I discussed the results, instead of an array of unconfirmed theories and suppositions, I was very much disappointed.

Only a day later, my missive to Mr Severus Snape, C/O The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers was returned unopened. Indignation flared within me as I ripped open an accompanying note from Albert.

According to the old man, Mr Snape was "currently leading an expedition in the fjords of Norway to carry out research for the Society". Albert was basically telling me their esteemed leader was not expected to return for some time, and therefore, my letter would not reach him.

And pointedly, there was no offer to provide a forwarding address.

It's fair to say I wasn't amused.


	2. Two

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Two**

I'm not someone who takes inordinate pleasure in being right, or who relishes a feeling of superiority, but I'll admit it was somewhat gratifying to see the consternation on the faces of my superiors, including the Minister himself, when I revealed the results of our survey. It wasn't so much self-satisfaction at my role at the forefront; it was more to do with rattling them into action, for a change.

Unsurprisingly, they became animated as I described what was happening, all clamouring to register their confusion as to why we were seeing such worrying trends. However, when I explained our working hypothesis—that it may possibly be the result of intensive harvesting by potioneers—the room quietened slightly. I took it to mean they were enthralled. When, further, I outlined what steps might need to be taken to halt the trends we were seeing—the likelihood of introducing quotas and stricter monitoring of certain habitats known to be in danger—it was then they began to look uncomfortable and, yes… dismissive.

And when I suggested they might send an investigative team out to uncover any criminality within certain institutions, that's when they allowed themselves to laugh. Unashamedly.

'Fancy yourself as a whistleblower do you, Granger?' someone called out dryly.

The Secretary for Business then sniffed pompously, saying they could not "hinder the growth of the potion-making industry when it's the source of many jobs and income for the Wizarding world". I hastened to point out that co-operation would mean a solution could be reached without damaging the industry, but I was overrode by one of the Minister's lackeys.

'Out of interest, just how _reliable_ is your… survey?'

I didn't bother dignifying that question with an answer.

When I went on to mention the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, I was surprised, despite myself, by the mood that came over them. It was one of unease.

'Have you been in touch with the Society?' someone queried. 'You've not… presented this rot to Severus Snape, have you?'

'No,' my manager replied tightly, looking pained at having to admit his responsibility for me, 'she took it to Ridley and Ridley brought it to me.'

 _Rot_? I could hardly contain myself, but I managed not to quite explode with indignation. 'Why shouldn't I?' I replied stoutly. 'He is the President of the Society; it is surely logical we should consult with this organisation over our findings?'

From the looks I received, apparently, I was wrong in this assumption.

'The Society does a lot of good work for this country, Miss Granger. It is one of the most highly-regarded scientific societies in the world and has contributed to many developments that has changed the way we live. I need not remind you of the recent potion created to negate the effects of the Cruciatus curse? Indeed, it has all but rendered the curse useless.'

I felt so frustrated then, because I could sense what was coming next. I just _knew_ what they would say.

'This is just a temporary blip; these things balance themselves out in time. You've read too much into it.'

And that was it; that was me well and truly set aside.

My immediate superior, a man who so often drove me to the edge of madness, clapped a hand on my shoulder and smiled patiently. 'Granger, you don't have to make a crusade out of everything you do, all right?'

I clenched my fists while he shook his head gently.

'Sometimes, there isn't a complicated—'

'My results are accurate and they speak for themselves,' I ground out.

'No doubt, no doubt,' he murmured soothingly, yet completely contradicted himself by wandering out of the chamber along with everyone else. I slapped my folders onto the desk beside me and growled.

It was typical they wanted to brush this under the carpet. It was the publicity they wanted to avoid. They knew if they apportioned any credence to my theories, and word got out, they'd have a mess on their hands. I wondered briefly if, after twenty years in the Ministry, I would also end up more concerned with money and reputation than facing problems head on and dealing with them in the way they needed to. I like to think it hasn't happened, despite the number of years I've given to that place.

Their desire to sweep _me_ under the carpet didn't stop me from ploughing on under my own steam. That's one of the bonuses of being unpopular, I suppose—you're left alone to get on with it.

I started looking at mapping the biggest-known factories and apothecaries in the country in relation to some of the worst affected habitats. Naturally, this was most inconclusive, as what is proximity to a witch or wizard who can Apparate? Still, the exercise wasn't entirely without merit— it showed me it would be nearly impossible for me to narrow down who might be engaging in malpractice. There were far too many companies for me to investigate, and I knew precisely nothing about each and every one of them. In essence, I had nothing to go on. Not an inkling.

I thought that without the backing of the Ministry, I might very well have to forget defining the cause and simply focus on correcting the problem—to come up with some proposals for the future. But, to everyone's surprise, the situation we were in changed rather suddenly, leaving us all, it must be said, a little off-guard.

Because, despite the Ministry's desire to avoid any bad press on the subject of the ecological survey, I feel they misjudged how strongly the public might react when the _Daily Prophet_ caught wind of the story and, in their inimitable style, ran with it. I don't think I counted one single fact that was correct in their pieces, but they certainly had the gist.

The Ministry was horrified by the uproar caused.

Articles posed to people they should think twice about where the products they buy in an apothecary might have come from. Headlines such as 'Augurey's Killed For Use In Top-Selling Cleaning Solutions' were a feature for several days. It was sensationalism at its best and worst, depending on your point-of-view. When sales suddenly plummeted, the company behind the _Mrs_ _Scower_ brand were forced to defend their practices publicly and launched a complaint to the Ministry immediately. The Ministry who were branded as 'dithering and ineffectual' by certain commentators.

For my own part, despite the advantages public opinion can give to a matter, I was unhappy with the _Prophet_ stoking the fire in such a blatant way. Particularly as the powers-that-be in the Ministry seemed to think it was _me_ who'd purposefully tipped off the paper in a fit of hurt intellectual pride.

In this instance, it was my boss who stood up for me. I think I might have preferred a better defence, however. When one of my colleagues got a bit frazzled over the inflammatory Owls and Howlers we were struggling to keep a lid on, and turned to me hissing, 'Thanks for this, Granger!' The boss stood and announced, 'Granger isn't the leak; that girl _lives_ for rules and procedure!'

Can't say it was something I desired to be shouted across the office. Still… they all seemed to agree with him, though.

There were also figures within the potion-making industry who were understandably offended by the insinuations being bandied about. They looked particularly towards the Most Extraordinary Society for Potioneers for support in their defence. Apart from a few brief comments from Ridley, stating their commitment to fair practice, they'd been notably silent. The _Prophet_ , of course, soon picked up on this silence and their attention moved from the big companies to the professional body, looking to them to take a firmer stance on the matter.

As it happened, I wasn't particularly at ease with the increasing number of calls there was for Severus Snape to return from Norway. And the bloody Ministry, of course, had executed an abrupt u-turn and, for appearance's sake, I felt, also wanted word from Snape. I had an uncomfortable sense people were expecting him to be answerable, which I felt to be plainly absurd. But maybe I also dreaded to an extent the increased possibility of my coming face-to-face with him. I may have prided myself at that time as never allowing myself to be cowed, but I wasn't confident I could hold my own against _him_.

It seems rather ironic, in hindsight then, that I hoped the hullabaloo would blow over. Not that I wanted to forget the matter, but the publicity was not aiding my fledgling attempts at investigating. Hardly anyone in the potions industry was likely to agree to speak to me willingly—they were far too on their guard. And I had no jurisdiction to demand an audience; not until the Ministry ordered an official investigation and that was something they were resisting for as long as possible.

It was around this time that, while I seemed to be getting nowhere fast, I received a message via an express owl. I was burning the midnight oil in my office, when it arrived, and _it_ turned out to be nothing less than a summons—an immediate summons to Edinburgh. I stared dumbly at the parchment, because despite the signature at the bottom being that of Theobald Ridley, I had an awful premonition as to exactly what I would face on entering the Most Extraordinary Society for Potioneers for a second time. Even with that in mind, I was certainly not going to pass up this opportunity for anything. I collected up as much of my data as I could and I headed straight there.

When Albert led me up the marble staircase and took the passageway on the left, the opposite direction to Ridley's office, I felt myself tense with nervous expectation. I clutched my folders tightly when we came to a halt outside a large oak door bearing the name of Severus Snape.

'I believe you are already acquainted with Severus,' Albert commented with a smile I felt was half pity, half amusement. It did not make me feel any easier.

He opened the door and I walked into a modestly sized, oak-panelled room. The office was empty and I turned to speak to Albert, but he'd already shut the door and ostensibly returned to his post in the entrance hall. There was a desk at the far end of the room, with two chairs in front of it. I crossed over and sat in one, clenching and unclenching my hands in my lap, and wondering if this was a delaying tactic precisely designed to leave me uncomfortable. I chuckled to myself, then; chuckled at my own vanity for conceiving such a thought.

Still, if I remember correctly, I sat there on my own for a good ten minutes. During this time, I managed to establish there were no portraits in the room; there was nothing much on the desk apart from a selection of writing implements; there was a large bookcase; and there was an impressive high-mantled fireplace, within which a fire burned. It was this that caused me to flinch when it abruptly glowed bright green. I sprang involuntarily to my feet, sending some of my parchments to the floor, and watched a familiar figure appear.

Any semblance of greeting I had prepared evaporated at the most ferocious glare I have ever had the misfortune to receive. I sank weakly into my chair, firmly telling myself I wasn't yet cowed. As he slapped down a pile of newspapers onto the desk with a thud, I forced myself to look unmoved.

He did not sit; he simply stared at me. Must have been five or six years since I'd last clapped eyes on him, but right then it felt like it might only have been yesterday.

'I thought the days of you inconveniencing me were over, Miss Granger,' he began softly, shrugging off his cloak. He moved across the room to hang it on the back of the door as he spoke. 'Days of you setting fire to me; sabotaging my lessons; stealing from me; breaking rules… I should have known you were merely warming up.'

I wasn't sure I entirely agreed with this assessment, but there _was_ something warming up; my face. I surreptitiously raised a hand to press my fingers into my cheeks, as if to rid myself of colour before he noticed.

'Because now,' he continued, his voice strengthening in volume, 'I find myself being forced to abandon an important and costly research venture, to Portkey hundreds of miles, to deal with this… _mess_.'

He was back behind his desk, and while I wanted to speak, I instinctively knew he wasn't finished. ' _Your_ mess,' he added darkly, picking up successive copies of the _Daily_ _Prophet_ and glancing at each of them cursorily.

'"Careless Potioneers destroying our natural heritage",' he read out flatly. '"Augurey's facing extinction in this country. The Most Extraordinary Society for Potioneers… _shilly-shallies_ while the industry plunges into crisis".'

He rifled through more of the papers. 'Ah, listen to this; "Severus Snape has been _gallivanting_ around Norway for the last two months, conveniently unable to comment on this matter. One must wonder what he has to hide".'

My cheeks burned freely now.

'Oh, and my personal favourite,' he continued derisively. '"Our top potioneers are currently working in Norway; clearly, depleting our own natural resources is not enough for them. Perhaps we should consider warning our Norwegian friends to… lock up their Augureys".'

He voice trailed off but the disdain remained in the air like a dense fog. He sat down and folded his arms, his expression as unreadable as I always remembered it as being.

'I must say, I'm struggling to understand how it is that I am suddenly accountable for anyone and everyone who decides to practice brewing, or deal in ingredients. Indeed, my understanding of my role in this Society appears to differ greatly to what you believe it to be. Because it is to you, Miss Granger, I believe I owe my thanks for the situation I now find myself in.'

And then he smiled. It was an approximation of such, anyway; an ironic quirking of the lips that unnerved me rather more than any of his words had done.

Honestly, I hardly knew where to begin. My mind was uncomfortably blank; not a position I ordinarily found myself in. I smoothed my hands, my admittedly sweaty hands, on my robes and urged my faculties to resume normal service. 'I, ah, regret that you've been drawn into the matter in such a way—I assure you it was not my intention. If you'll allow me to say, it is the _Daily Prophet_ that has turned this situation into what it is.'

'You deny any responsibility for turning a well-respected industry and profession, overnight, into one now associated with single-minded profiteering, negligence, and apathy to the environment it operates in?'

I shifted in my chair. 'Yes, I do actually. When I contacted this Society, it was not to bandy around accusations of negligence. I'd hoped to discuss the possibility that it was perhaps simply a matter of education that—'

He interrupted with a threatening hiss. 'Are you implying that we, those of us who choose to make the study of potions our life's work, are oblivious to the effect we have and the duty we have to our natural resources?'

'No…' I took a steadying breath, summoning the courage, or recklessness, to continue. 'But can you speak for everyone? The average apothecary in the street, for arguments sake? The management behind _Mrs Scower_?'

He flicked the pile of newspapers before him. 'Apparently. Why else am I now forced to explain myself to a bunch of idle busybodies who wouldn't know what to do with a cauldron if it came up and bit them?'

I frowned in confusion and he raised his eyebrows. 'Oh, were you not aware I've been asked to appear before the Ministry tomorrow afternoon?'

'No…'

'I'm warning you now, Granger; I'll not be made a scapegoat—do you understand?'

I nearly said, 'Yes, sir.' Instead I simply nodded. Privately, I rather thought they'd find someone else to be a scapegoat before they would him. I felt many of the politicians were actually a bit afraid of him.

'There needn't be any scapegoats,' I argued. 'All _I_ am looking for is an informed opinion. No one will talk to me now that the _Prophet_ has waded in with its bloody size nines. There _has_ to be some sort of agreed consensus, otherwise the issues we have will only get worse. If we can allay the concerns of the public and work to ensure these problems don't become worse, then the job will be done.'

I was rather pleased with this little speech, it must be said. He, on the other hand, looked as far away from pleased as a person could possibly get.

'Look, Miss Granger; anyone may practice potion-making. Anyone may set up as an apothecary. Anyone may get into trading ingredients. And many do.'

He was pointing out the unlikely chance of me discovering a person or persons responsible for the problems we faced. 'I'm only interested in establishing a cause so that we might put a stop to it. And I'm sure you'd rather be a part of that… Unless you'd prefer to let the bigwigs at the Ministry decide the plan of action?'

His jaw tightened and the fact he had no rejoinder let me know I had him swayed. I tried not to swell with pride when he begrudgingly bade me to return the following morning to give him a full and comprehensive account of the details. The feeling of triumph I left with seems absolutely ridiculous now. I always knew he wasn't a stupid man, yet I had enough vanity to congratulate myself it was on my wit alone that I secured his co-operation.

Actually, I suppose it was somewhat comforting to know I was still capable of being naïve, even after coming through a war.

When I returned to Edinburgh the next morning, to the Society, I was in for a couple of surprises. The first was particularly unwelcome. I arrived into a crowd of witches and wizards who stood outside the building chanting raucously 'Save our Augureys!' at the top of their lungs.

I watched in horror, unable to disagree with the sentiment, of course, but I didn't agree with its application in this context. I thought they'd be better served protesting at the Ministry, where the true inaction lay, in my opinion.

'What's going on?' I asked someone at the edge of the crowd.

'We want to know what they're going to do about our Augureys,' the witch declared doughtily, nodding her head at the Society. 'We want to know who has been killing our Augureys!'

'Snape's back,' someone else butted in. 'We want him to do something because this can't go on.'

I frowned. 'But what do you think he can do?'

Before I could get a reply, a voice rose up shouting that the Aurors were coming. I used the moment of confusion to push through the crowd and in through the doors. Albert stood on the inside, his wand in hand.

'Are you all right, Miss?' he queried.

'Er, yes,' I replied. 'Is, ah, Mr Snape, here?'

With the crowd still audible, I half hoped he wouldn't be. My luck wasn't to be borne, however, and I was told he awaited me in his office. The door was ajar when I reached it, so I knocked and stuck my head straight in. He was standing at the window and I thought for a moment he was watching the crowd, until I realised they weren't visible from this side of the building.

'The, ah, Aurors are dispersing them,' I ventured, closing the door behind me.

'They've been there for nearly an hour,' he said furiously. 'Half of Muggle Edinburgh is now wondering what the hell an Augurey is.'

He spun round, making for his chair. To my mind, his expression was as black as his robes. I wasn't inspired; no, indeed, I rather felt my stomach sink into the floorboards.

'Sit,' he instructed curtly.

I clenched my jaw and complied.

'I'd offer you tea…' he said next, 'but the house-elf has her day off today.'

A pointed barb, to be sure. I stilled, and I hesitate to admit it, but I think Severus Snape very nearly succeeded in making me feel… _guilt_ for my house-elf reform. It couldn't be borne. 'Good for her,' I commented stubbornly.

His lip curled but I ignored him, clearing my throat and deciding it would be prudent just to get down to business. 'Shall I give you a run-down of the facts?' I enquired, and for my sins, relishing _this_ opportunity to preach. 'I have the endangered areas in question mapped—'

I broke off abruptly at the firm shake of his head and clutched my parchments tighter. 'I'm sorry, I thought you wanted the details we'd—'

His eyes suddenly gleamed, and for a precarious moment I thought he might even laugh. 'Oh, come now, Miss Granger,' he murmured delicately. 'You don't think I could fail to have already noticed these trends you've identified?'

I just stared blankly. This was to be my second surprise.

He leaned back in his chair languidly, and it was his infuriatingly collected manner which ruffled me the most. 'I've been brewing potions for the best part of thirty years, and neither am I one for cosseting myself within my ivory tower, so I'm sure I could give you a far better analysis of the changing distribution of fairy spots over the past few decades, than anything your counting exercise could provide.'

I blinked blearily through the scorn he positively radiated. 'You're… telling me you were aware of what's been happening; have been for some time?'

'Pre-cise-ly,' he over-enunciated; no doubt enjoying immensely my being wrong-footed.

I can't say I enjoyed being made to feel two feet high; who would? And actually, though it has been said, I don't think it's fair to say this was me sampling my own medicine. _I_ have certainly never learned to be so utterly superior and dismissive that a person ends up feeling impressed despite themselves.

'You can't be the only one…'

He nodded. 'Some of my colleagues have registered their private concerns, but many of them are unaware of the bigger picture.'

I let my jaw fall open in outrage. 'Why has nothing been said? Why has nothing been done? The time that has been _wasted_ —'

'Yes, quite, Miss Granger,' he interrupted swiftly, finally looking animated. 'We just decided to ignore our observations and carry on under the maxim of 'Augurey's have lasted this long; what's there to worry about?' _That,'_ he spat, 'is the quality of intelligence that has sustained potion-making through centuries of progress and development.'

I clamped my mouth shut and frowned, not enjoying his sarcasm in the least.

'Why do you think nothing was said? Funnily enough, like you, we did not want the _Prophet_ , or the Ministry, or the bloody tree-hugging brigade interfering whilst we tried to establish the facts. Any chance of catching those responsible red-handed, whether they are a part of the potions industry or not, are now surely nil.'

'You intended to catch them? How could _you_ punish them without involvement from the Aurors?'

He smirked at me knowingly. 'Our charter is not without significant weight, Miss Granger. The original copy, set down hundreds of years ago, hangs in the Reading Room, should you care to examine it.' His eyes glinted. 'We have modified it over the years, of course, but it's essence remains the same. We do not confer it lightly upon those who wish to become associated with us here. And so, you may imagine we do not appreciate it when one of our number decides they are above such codes of ethics and practice as those we utilise.'

At this point, I found it necessary to remind myself that I wasn't a brewer guilty of breaking the rules. He got up and crossed the room to a large wooden chest. I twisted round in my chair to follow his progress and he took out a folder, glancing through it casually.

'The name George Cresswell ring a bell?' he asked.

I considered for a moment. 'Actually, didn't he—'

'Yes,' he interrupted dispassionately, while I scowled to myself. 'He worked on the original method for _Skele-gro_ in the early days of his career. Three years ago, word reached my ear that he was involved up to his neck in the trafficking of illegally obtained Ashwinder eggs. I looked into it, didn't like what I saw, and now… he shall never brew professionally in this country again.'

He carried on flicking through his parchments, whilst I allowed my imagination to run wild on the ominious fate of George Cresswell.

'Thaddeus Jones,' he continued, 'and this was before my time, really, was stripped of his membership to the Society when caught heading up a scam on the continent. It involved peddling a newly-discovered, supposedly more potent sub-species of ragwort, indigenous only to the north of England. The Society was contacted when a series of unexplained potion-making incidents occurred with only one common denominator—Jones's ragwort. Investigation proved Jones had contaminated the plants with a cocktail of Strengthening solutions.'

He closed the folder and returned to his chair. 'There's plenty more where they came from. So you see, we are neither ignorant nor idle when it comes to the inevitable wide-boy that wanders into our midst.'

'But do you not think criminal activity such as this should be reported?'

His expression turned impatient, but I think he expected me to take such a line on the matter. I've no doubt I can be very predictable at times.

'What—so they can simply be fined?'

'Their reputations would still be discredited.'

'There needs to be trust in an industry such as this, Miss Granger. No one would buy potions if they thought they could not trust their provenance, and there only has to be _one_ element of doubt. If we made every transgression we came across public we—'

'And what if it is in the public interest?' I argued briskly.

He scoffed dismissively. 'The public? So they can blow everything out of proportion? Things they don't understand, or how about tar us all with the same brush?' He folded his arms across his chest. 'I mean, this really is novel, I must say—being preached to about transparency from a minion of that vaunted beacon of truth, also known as the Ministry.'

I resisted the urge to groan aloud with aggravation. 'All right; I'm not going to argue with you. The Ministry chooses not to involve itself in these matters, therefore, how you operate is entirely _your_ prerogative.'

'So… relieved to have your approval.'

His sarcasm, while not unfamiliar to me, nevertheless made my insides quail with embarrassment.

'But what do you intend in this situation?' I held up my scroll and waggled it. 'You may not like it, but the public are involved this time and they will want answers.'

My scroll of parchment was unceremoniously snatched from me, and the accompanying glare I received seemed to curse my effrontery for daring to brandish it at him in the first place. I swallowed down my indignation as he unrolled the parchment and began reading.

I crossed my legs and arranged my robes casually, schooling my expression into one, I hoped, of refinement and ease. Whilst inwardly, as I watched his expression go from scowl to sneer and back again, I wanted to spontaneously combust out of all existence.

I still don't think I was cowed, though.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading : )


	3. Three

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Three**

I wasn't entirely sure what to make of my meeting with my former teacher. Oh, I knew very well what to make of it with regard to his perception of me, that was very plain, indeed. I was an irritant.

What was less clear was the implications of what I'd learned from him. I didn't know what to think about his approach to the issue at hand; and I'm not sure I agreed with his taking matters into his own hands. I had doubts about his effectiveness as a deterrent towards those who were caught bending and breaking the rules.

That's right: I doubted the man who had one of the most daunting reputations in the country. I don't mind admitting I get things wrong occasionally.

By the end of the day, however, I would have reason to entirely rethink my assessment of him, our conversation, and many other things, in fact.

He was reading my analysis, whilst I sat on tenterhooks. When he finally finished , he rolled up the parchment and placed it carefully before him on the desk. He settled back into his chair, supporting his elbows on the arms and lacing his hands together. It was then it occurred to me I'd forgotten this aspect of his character—the fact that he never does anything in a hurry. There's something almost eerie about his detachment, at times. I felt quite sure that if the fire in the grate could have exploded up the walls and started burning the down the room, he would have casually got to his feet and strolled out to safety as though walking through a field on a sunny day. It's behaviour that is very hard for someone like me to reconcile. I'm not very patient; I'm very eager and fervent… Probably overly so, if you asked anyone else.

So, whilst he sat there, cogitating at length, my hands were wringing beneath the desk with impatience.

'Have you a quill?' he uttered finally.

'Um…' I rooted in my bag for one, irritated all that prevarication had been rounded off with something so mundane. 'Yes,' I replied, holding it out to him.

' _For you;_ you may want to copy some of this down.'

 _Stupid girl_ , seemed to hang in the air unsaid. I flushed painfully and hurriedly reached for my parchment.

'In the instance of the decreased density of Monkshood, in the region of the Cheviot hills, there is nothing nefarious for us to be concerned about.'

'How do you know?' I asked, a bit too quickly, clearly, because he gave me a look that could curdle milk.

'Consider for a moment, Granger, if it's not too much trouble, these minor little facts. One: Monkshood, Wolfsbane, Aconite, whatever you want to call it, is native to regions the world over. Two: it's possible for it to be grown under controlled conditions. With these in mind, what possibly is there to be gained by rooting up the plant for sale on the black market?'

He stared at me and I let his words digest uneasily in my stomach, clenching my jaw at having opened myself up to such an easy shot.

'You turn up down the pub looking to offload a bulk of Monskhood and, I assure you, you'll be laughed right back to where you came from.'

'I see,' I said tightly.

'The Cheviots are one of the most popular areas for harvesting Monskshood, it's true, as the species is a quality one. The ground has no doubt become damaged, eroded, over time, and therefore, the plant is not growing back in a sustainable fashion.'

Oh God, the sigh of frustration I let out at this point has haunted me for a long time since. 'Surely this was to be expected?' I posed, thinking at the time this was the opening for me to begin fighting fire with fire. 'Surely it is logical to vary the harvesting at this particular site, in order to allow the habitat to replenish…'

I could have said more, but the look on his face stopped me in my tracks. I can still picture it clearly… Although, that may be down to the fact I have had reason to see it many times in years gone by.

'Do _you_ know what entity in this country consumes the largest quantities of plants such as Monkshood?'

I forced myself to maintain eye contact with his blazing look. 'No,' I admitted stiffly.

'St. Mungo's,' he revealed with an undeniable trace of relish. 'And who, I ask you, is ultimately responsible for them?'

He smirked triumphantly and got to his feet, giving me ample opportunity to lower my head dejectedly and grimace to myself. The answer, of course, was the Ministry.

'Don't they teach you people to think, these days?' he muttered, and I could imagine his ironic smile without having to see it. 'Have you bloody well even seen the site in question?' he asked.

He was looking through some files as I, somewhat miserably, replied that I had.

'Then you'll know, Miss Granger, that it's plainly impossible for your average potioneer or even apothecary to leave this sort of damage on an area as big as that in question. However, St. Mungo's mass-produces pain relievers and markets them on the basis that the Monskhood used is one of the best quality anywhere in the world. That certainly _is_ big business.'

'I was brushed off when I enquired about St. Mungo's,' I admitted grimly. 'My understanding is that there is only special dispensation to harvest wild plants in extenuating circumstances. Otherwise, they are supposed to cultivate it themselves.'

I'd appealed to the Department for Health for information regarding the practices at St Mungo's. What I'd received in reply clearly had been tailored to fob me off for as long as possible. I sighed and threw my quill down.

He returned to his chair and I thought I detected amusement in his expression. And maybe I was cowed then, because the desire flashed through my mind to throw in the towel. It's never very inspiring to be faced with closed doors at every turn and such indecipherable personalities as the man before me had.

But, of course, I was not going to give up as easily as that. Failure has never been something I've dealt with easily. I can try and be as philosophical about it as I like; never stops me tormenting myself over it for weeks after, however.

'What… What about the others? The Augureys and so on… ?'

I thought maybe a change of topic would aid me in regaining some ground. Before he could answer, though, there came a knock on the door.

'Yes?' Snape called.

It was Ridley. I gave him a small smile of unease, but he took hardly any notice of me.

'There are reporters from the _Prophet_ outside, Severus. They won't go away until they've spoken to you.'

I groaned inwardly and tried to make myself as insignificant as possible in my chair, not wanting to bear another one of his irate looks, as I felt must be due me again.

He didn't glare at me, however. I heard a little huff of irritation and then he said, 'Thank you, Theo.'

He then looked over to the large clock that hung on the wall and frowned slightly. 'I'm afraid we shall have to reconvene this discussion at a later date, Miss Granger. I must make preparations to travel to the Ministry without getting cornered by those idiots outside.'

I hadn't forgotten about his meeting with the ministers. Besides, there'd been a big mention of it in the _Prophet_ this morning.

'Very well,' I answered equably, secretly grateful I'd have a chance to regroup. I collected up my parchments and folders and stuffed them into my bag. I was just preparing to stand when I realised he was looking at me in a manner that was very assessing and calculating. Discomfited by it, I raised my eyebrows questioningly.

He plucked at his cuff and folded his arms. 'I should like this discussion to remain between us, for the present.'

'… Why?'

The self-satisfied smirk that appeared around his mouth was fleeting, but I definitely saw it. 'Oh, let us say something about too many cooks and leave it at that.'

I nodded, feeling I understood where he was coming from, but time would only prove how completely incapable I was of understanding the true meaning of anything this man said.

When I returned to my office, my boss didn't even bother asking where I'd been. I could see him in his office, looking slightly frazzled. I also recognised a few faces from other departments congregating in there, all with some degree of frown marking their features. It seemed to me no wonder Snape appeared to be unconcerned about the imminent meeting with these luminaries. I could imagine them all in there, discussing their best way forward without causing too many ripples. I wasn't sure whether to be disgusted by such sycophancy, or be impressed that Snape commanded it in the first place.

With regard to this consultation which was soon to take place, was it presumptuous of me to imagine I would be in on it? As the primary force who'd brought this matter to light, _I_ felt it went without saying. Was this arrogance? I don't think so. I think it only reasonable that I felt such a level of ownership over the matter, and that I, subsequently, desired to be at the fore of its development.

It may not have been arrogance, then, but it was certainly naiveté on my part. When the boss came out of his office (and pretended not to see my expectant expression) I said hurriedly, 'Sir? What time is the meeting?'

He halted, probably kicking himself for not having made a speedier exit, and turned to me. 'Ah, yes, Granger, there you are. It, uh, starts in fifteen minutes, but it's heads of department only, you know.'

My mouth fell open in outrage, but before I could verbalise my indignation, he smiled and said:

'Get that Puffskein incident from last week looked into, will you? There's a good girl.'

And then he hurried off to the nearest lift. I stared after him, seething to myself, and then had to suffer the amused expressions of those who'd witnessed the exchange. Therefore, it's possible that I flounced back to my desk, but I like to think I showed a little more decorum than that. When I got there, I sat for several minutes, just cursing to myself.

But as my initial ire began to lessen, I decided I was going to be at that meeting, or at least, to hear it. Why should I be blocked from it? This was _my_ project. I did not trust them with it an inch. I quickly wrenched open my bottom drawer and pulled out a couple of Extendable Ears, shoving them into my robe.

'Going on my break,' I announced to no one in particular as I departed, heading for the lift.

I knew they'd be using one of the conference chambers. There were four situated along a passageway down in the bowels of the Ministry, and were, I knew, all connected by inner doors. I headed there quickly, and as I rounded the corner, saw the last few bodies file into the largest chamber at the far end of the corridor. I won't deny that I felt a little ridiculous at my actions, but still, I think I was enjoying it, nevertheless.

I quickly stepped towards chamber next door to the meeting and slipped inside. I crossed immediately through the darkened room to the wall separating the chambers and found the connecting door. I felt sure it would be locked, but I didn't dare test it, in case someone on the other side noticed.

I settled down on the floor and strategically placed one end of the Extendable Ear under the door—pushing it under as far as I thought I could get away with. The other end I clasped tightly in my hand and listened.

'Thank you for coming, Mr Snape,' said a voice I didn't recognise. 'As you know, concerns have recently been brought to light regarding the fate of certain plants and animals in this country. We are looking to allay the fears of the public and would be grateful for your assistance in this matter.'

'Indeed; so sorry about this Severus. I hope this hasn't inconvenienced you too much. Regrettable business, really…'

I scoffed to myself silently.

I tensed expectantly when I heard Snape speak next.

'I have colleagues capable of carrying on where I've had to leave off,' he said calmly. 'I'm sure you'll agree though, gentlemen, this could have been handled more effectively. My being dragged into this, I'm sure you'll appreciate, has given much cause for… _schadenfraude_ from some of my international contemporaries.'

I wasn't sure they'd all know what _schadenfraude_ meant.

There was a clamouring of murmurs; what I took to mean they agreed wholeheartedly.

'This hasn't done reputations any good, it's true. We have found the leak,' put in my boss. 'One of Granger's team got tempted by a few Galleons, it seems.'

I tried not to gasp too loudly. Nobody had bothered telling me this!

'This would be… Hermione Granger, yes?' asked Snape pensively. 'One might wish Miss Granger could pick her colleagues more prudently in future. Indeed, one might even question her role in this, in the first place. Seems to me to have been a great responsibility for a… What _is_ her position, precisely?'

My insides contracted in disbelief and I hardly dared breathe.

'He's got a point, Bertie,' piped up one of the Minister's assistants. 'I thought we'd told you to watch what you put her onto after that trouble we had with the house-elves.'

'Er, well, I never thought anything would come of it,' my boss, Bertie, stated defensively.

'Couldn't you have kept an eye on her progress? If we'd known of this earlier we could have—'

'Nipped it in the bloody bud.'

'Right.'

'We can't ignore what has been found, however,' put in a brave voice.

' _If_ we are to have confidence in the results, then no, we cannot.'

This was Snape again, and I stared unseeingly into the darkness, unable to grasp what was going on.

'Well, what is your opinion?' My boss asked him.

'It is my opinion we cannot base policies on the basis of one survey. I see that past data used for a comparison is ten years old and, at best, sketchy. Certainly, I think the damage to Monkshood numbers in the Cheviots has been over-estimated and blown out of proportion. However, this is something you should maybe address to… St. Mungo's. Wouldn't you agree?'

There was silence.

'I think it _would_ be foolish to rush into action when we cannot even be sure of the accuracy of the findings,' commented an unknown voice. 'Needs to be investigated over a period of time to show us a proper pattern.'

'Don't let me influence you, gentlemen, but might I suggest employing specialist persons trained in research to conduct your studies in future?'

Snape's smooth voice, as it travelled through my Extendable Ear, was now making me feel sick.

'Should we go to someone outside the Ministry?'

'I'm not sure that we should—'

'The public would love it. They'll have more confidence—'

'And what if we don't like what they find?'

'The main thing is it'll take the heat off us, and, anyway, you know all this will be forgotten about by most, Bertie. Today's news is always tomorrow's chip paper. Something else will come along for them to get up in arms about. And if we have to, we'll just bury the results under other news.'

'We're doing something; they can't complain about that.'

The meeting started to wrap up then, and in order to prevent myself from bursting through the door and screaming at them, I snatched up my ear and took to my heels. I walked in blind anger through the passages, hardly knowing where I was going. When, however, I felt my eyes start to sting, I pushed my way into the nearest toilet and shut myself in.

I breathed steadily, determined I wouldn't allow myself any tears, but it was the one time when I felt this might be the undoing. That this might the one time when I could not rise above the opinions of others and carry on unchanged. No one in that room had showed me any support or confidence, and not even I'm hard-headed enough to be unaffected by that.

And what had I done? I'd only ever tried my best.

I thought of Snape and how comprehensively he'd humiliated me. He was clearly playing a clever game; humouring me and then deftly misdirecting the Ministry behind closed doors. And they were self-serving enough to go along with it.

I couldn't even tell them about my off-the-record discussion with Snape that morning. Who would take notice, or even care. And Snape, I knew, must also realised this.

I splashed water on my face and cursed the lot of them. All of them; all so trite and predictable it was disgusting.

Well, I knew. I knew what they were planning. I knew Snape was playing a two-handed game.

 _I knew_ ; and regardless of how crushed I was at that moment, I knew I would not back away from it.

I Summoned my bag from the office, and when I had it, I marched right out of the Ministry. If anyone bothered asking, I'd say I'd gone home ill. As it was, I had work to do.

* * *

AN: Thanks for the comments : )


	4. Four

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Four**

That night, I steeled myself and went out to buy myself a copy of the _Evening_ _Prophet_ , fully well knowing what I would find on the front page. I was to be proved right. The Ministry had issued a press release in time for the evening edition regarding the outcome of the meeting. I read through it feeling my anger swell hotly with each word.

The statement alluded to concerns over the reliability of my survey, suggesting wider studies were needed before anything definite could be established. There was, of course, a caveat which went along the lines that they 'took seriously' and 'would deal' with any issues that arose. My name wasn't specifically mentioned, but to me that was irrelevant—wasn't going to make any difference. Those who knew of my involvement would see it as a firm slap in my face.

I returned home and sat at my kitchen table, upon which I had all my survey notes and details spread out. For the longest time I just stared at it. Part of me was still struggling to reconcile the events of the day — I was filled with disquiet and uncertainty. I had a feeling the Ministry had it right. People _would_ forget, given time. For the majority, something else would take focus. And maybe even this rhetorical posturing would be enough.

I thought of those people protesting for the sake of the Augureys, and wonder if they and other like-minded people would keep pushing for more concrete answers. But then, I wondered where these people had been all the time the Augureys have been in decline. It seemed to me this might be where my work would begin—ensuring the press, and those who professed to care, did _not_ forget.

Something else was also bothering me; my future. After all, I could not see it continuing at the Ministry for much longer. I wasn't sure I wanted to remain a part of something that I so vehemently disagreed with. And while I professed to be a trouble-maker—always seeking change and progress—I was never so deluded as to imagine I could single-handedly change the very ethos of a whole bureaucracy. At this point, I was beginning to feel it prudent to consider my efforts might be better spent elsewhere.

Despite these worries about my future prospects, I knew I'd not be leaving without first putting right the Ministry, the public, _and_ Snape. I just had to figure out how I would achieve this aim. Even feeling as unsettled as I did, part of me flared to life at having a goal to set myself. Nothing suits me better.

I walked into the office the following day, hoping to make it to my desk without incident, but, of course, everyone was anticipating my arrival. They all eyed me when I entered; some probably gloating inwardly at my apparent failure; some wary that I might kick off. Someone did have the front to say, with a wry smile: 'Saw the _Prophet_ ; hard luck, Granger.'

I'd barely sat down before the boss stuck his head around the door and called me into his office. I grit my teeth at his predictability and followed him inside.

'Granger,' he said affably, closing the door shut. 'We missed you yesterday; what happened?'

'I was unwell; I needed to go home early,' I replied as evenly as I could. 'I'm sorry if that caused you any inconvenience.'

I allowed my distaste to show as he turned his back and crossed to his chair.

'Well, I did need to speak to you, actually, but… You're here, now, so no matter.'

'Oh, is this about the article in the _Prophet_?' I asked plainly. He could easily have Floo-called me. The humiliation would have been even more acute had I really only found out through reading the paper. Or, imagine if I'd walked into the office, _not_ having read the article? The embarrassment probably would have killed me.

'Yes…' he answered slowly. 'We have decided more information is needed on the problems you've identified, before we can act.'

'What more is needed? The facts are clear enough… aren't they?'

'Well… yes, yes, of course, we recognise how serious the situation is, and that is why we want to take our time and consider carefully the right solution. Can't rush into these things, you know.'

He chuckled; and I fought not to issue a bitter laugh.

'Right; what would you like me to do?'

I admit, making him squirm was some comfort, at least; cold, but still comfort.

'Actually, Granger, we're taking you off this…'

'Excuse me?' I exclaimed in perfect surprise.

'Yes; you see, we're going to let those really in know handle this, for the best results…'

'Severus Snape, perhaps?'

He faltered. 'Snape? No, no; we'll commission some uninterested parties… Only way to do it, don't you think?'

His smiling face made me want to grasp my wand and hex him. I _knew_ they'd be commissioning no one, and I wanted to shout this out to him. They'd release some carefully worded announcements designed to give the impression of action, and then when enough time passed, they'd simply let the issue fizzle into the ether.

Instead of putting this to him, which I knew would not be the best idea in the world, I breathed in, unclenched my fists, and put on my disappointed face. 'I really would have liked to see this work through to the conclusion, sir,' I responded, knowing he'd expect some objection from me. 'Could I liaise with the investigative team you employ?'

'Well, er, we're very busy here, Granger; I'm not sure I'll be able to spare you.'

A likely story.

'Actually, sir,' I said, 'I've been thinking about taking some of my holiday leave, preferably to begin as soon as possible.'

Technically, I should have booked leave in advance, but I felt that with recent events in mind, he would be more than happy to grant me a week off if it meant I was off the scene.

I was right.

He put a thoughtful expression on his face. 'I shouldn't really be doing this, Granger, you know,' he cautioned with a smile. 'But seeing how hard you've worked lately, I don't mind authorising it at short notice.'

'You're too kind.'

The urge to hex him was foremost in my mind at that point. Nevertheless, I managed to leave without incident. I knew what everyone would think at me taking time off. They'd think I was smarting injuriously over the fate of my pet project. Well, they could think me as vain and as self-important as they like. What did it matter to me? All I cared was that I now had time to seriously set about planning my… Not revenge. That indicates something rather more self-serving. And while I can't deny I wanted bring one over on them, it was still about ensuring the right action for those animals in danger.

My day didn't get any better. At lunchtime I received a letter from none other than Severus Snape. As soon as I saw the familiar handwriting, my anger rose once more to the fore. I actually think it was his behaviour that had upset me more than my superiors in the Ministry. Although I'd never, ever, enjoyed a cordial relationship with the man, I suppose I'd, naively, still expected more. We'd fought in the same war, after all; had that shared experience. To me, it had meant something.

But then I felt silly and sentimental for imaging it so.

I ripped open the seal viciously and felt my mouth hang open in immediate astonishment. The man's completely unashamed effrontery seemed to know no bounds.

 _Miss Granger_ , it said,

 _No doubt you've now heard what the Ministry has planned regarding the matter we discussed. Unfortunately, all they wanted to hear from me was reassurance the concerns identified were misplaced. Naturally, I could not give such assurance, but we should be unsurprised they're determined to take their own path._

 _I assume you will still be involved in proceedings. If you stumble across anything you desire clarification on, my assistance is available to you._

 _Severus Snape_

I stared, _incensed_ , and before I could think twice, I flew to my feet, the letter crumpled in my fist, and I marched from the office straight through to the Atrium. I only stopped walking when I had to Apparate.

I found myself in Edinburgh. As much as I wanted to bide my time and leave them all with a large smattering of egg on their faces, the ire I felt was so potent, I couldn't stop myself. I pushed open the door to the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers and rushed up the steps.

'Hello?' Albert called out in confusion.

I ignored him, my heart pounding so loudly I barely heard him. I stamped along the corridor until I reached the door I required. Without thinking, I grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open. I stepped inside, taking in a breath ready to unleash my diatribe…

And then I faltered. The room was empty. Snape was nowhere to be seen.

The wind was taken from my sails quite comprehensively, and my shoulders sagged, possibly in relief, really. Had he been there, I'm sure what might have unfolded wouldn't have been for the best. I got my breath under control and left, rushing back outside quickly in case the man was lurking about in the building somewhere. It was stupid to think I could face him at that time and emerge victorious.

'Shall I tell Severus you called?' Albert asked when I appeared back in the entrance hall.

I froze. 'Er, no, thank you; I shall simply Owl him.'

I hurried down the stairs, hoping to escape quickly, but the old man seemed eager to talk.

'He's travelled down to Snowdonia today, tending to business. He may not get your Owl until tomorrow. Shall I take a message?'

I managed a small smile for him. 'No; thank you.'

I Apparated back to the Ministry, feeling not a little foolish, it must be said. For the remainder of the day, I forced myself to concentrate on the tasks piling up in my in-tray, while waiting for the time to tick down so I could leave and go home. I'm not sure that's a frame of mind I'd ever previously indulged in.

By now, I was even more determined to wrong-foot the Ministry, as well as the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers after that letter from their leader. Intermittently, throughout the day, I picked it back up and read through it again, shaking my head in disbelief. He bloody well _knew_ I was not to be part of the proceedings any longer because he'd bloody _suggested_ it. It was so infuriating, every time I read it, that I had to consciously work to calm myself down.

And that offer of further help… I just had no words to describe the effect upon me; it rendered me speechless, as the cliché goes.

When I was finally free of my duties, I went home and spent yet more hours into the evening planning; working out the best avenue for me to obtain evidence the Ministry were wilfully ignoring what was in front of them. To prove they felt no moral obligation to protect our indigenous species; only a mercenary desire to save a few galleons and protect their slipshod, inadequate policies.

I also had to work out how I could implicate the Society. After all, I had no doubt Snape could wheedle himself out of being implicated in any accusation of neglect. He could quite easily shift the responsibility onto the Ministry, because there was no rule or regulation requiring him to act. But after his performance, I wanted to ensure everyone know his professional piety was significantly lacking. Bitter of me, certainly, but I considered it would only be the truth.

I withdrew the memory of my discussion with him, and even that of my eavesdropping at the Ministry, and placed them within a phial. If push came to shove, I thought I might have to make these moments public. If I no one believed me, well then, he could simply implicate himself. They all could, in fact. The reporters at the _Prophet_ , I knew, would have bitten my hand off for such information. Indulging the _Prophet_ so gamely was not something I'd enter into lightly, however.

I had my map before me, and I studied it, looking to see where I might be best trying my luck. No one place particularly jumped out at me. I wouldn't start with the Monkshood problem; I believed Snape to be right regarding St. Mungo's. My eyes landed on the Snowdonia National Park and I scowled at it as an image of that awful man entered my head. I decided that, clearly, he was a man influenced by power—of having power. Why this observation should have come to me so late in day, after years of his tyrannical behaviour in the classroom, I simply do not know.

And why, after knowing the details of his triple-agency, I thought him any fraction of reliable, well, that was definitely folly on my part.

As I stared mutinously at the area on the map, I suddenly noticed something that caused me to chill slightly with uncertainty. Marked within the Snowdonia mountain range I had one of the largest colonies of Augureys in the country.

 _Augureys_.

Augureys in decline.

And Snape, according to Albert, was "tending to business" in the area.

 _Tending to business._

It was, of course, rather a big leap for me to suddenly imagine Snape as being involved in the illegal exporting of Augurey feathers for money. I wasn't sure I wanted to go that far; I'm fully prepared to consider the concept of a coincidence. But I admit, as the idea planted, it became harder to shift.

Because… was all that talk about promoting responsibility amongst potioneers, about making those irresponsible accountable, just a bluff to put me off any potential scent? What reason, otherwise, did he have to misinform the Ministry? I suppose it's arguable he is just another person who has come to rely upon the status quo, but when you have the facts as I do, it certainly provides food for thought.

His offer of further assistance to me… Was that simply a subtle nudge for me to keep him in the loop, should I discover anything?

It was a nice little conspiracy theory, I admit, and while I had absolutely no evidence to support such fancies, I wondered whether it might be a good idea to start my investigations with Snape himself. Perhaps, even, call his bluff.

As far as Snape and the Ministry were concerned, I knew nothing of their meeting. So the question then, I felt, was how would they expect me to react? What would they expect me to do? My boss was probably convinced; he probably thought I wished time to get over my hurt pride. Snape, however, might anticipate being faced with my indignation and further appeals on my part for his help.

Calling his bluff seemed a good option, then. It would be interesting to see if he tried to slither his way out of further involvement with me. The only concern would be whether I'd be able to keep my cool or not.

In any case, I had nothing much to lose. The next morning, I Apparated to Edinburgh and went into the Society building. Albert stood up behind his desk upon spotting me.

'Good morning,' he greeted. 'Back again?'

'Yes,' I replied, trying not to sound too uncomfortable, even though I felt it keenly. 'Is Mr Snape—'

'Not here, I'm afraid, lass.' His moustache quivered into a small smile. 'I received a note from his last night detailing his plan to return to Norway today, on account of his business here being concluded.'

I nodded circumspectly. So that's the game he's going to play, I thought to myself. Put hundreds of miles between himself and the problem.

'I see; how unfortunate of me to have missed him.

'He's always very busy,' said the old man, with something akin to pride in his voice.

I looked at him, then; really looked at him. 'I wonder if you might be able to help me, Albert? May I call you Albert?'

'You may; and, of course, I shall surely help you if I can, Miss Granger.'

'Hermione,' I said with a smile. 'Is there somewhere—?'

'Oh, yes, come on through.'

He directed me through the door behind his desk, and beyond was a small sitting room with a fire burning in the grate.

'Will you have tea?' he queried. 'Tibby has started her… shift, I believe.' He shook his head to himself as he called for the elf. 'Still tickles me every time,' he muttered.

I was unsure if he was aware that I was the cause of his disbelief, but with a view to having an amiable chat with him, I let the remark slide unnoticed.

'How long have you worked here, Albert?' I asked casually after the tea was brought.

'Not a great many years, my dear; Severus took me on when he took over as presiding officer.'

I was pleased. Already the conversation had hit upon what I truly wanted to discuss.

'Yes, Professor Snape, he—' I broke off and gave a chuckle. 'Listen to me, I'm still thinking of him as my teacher, sometimes!'

The old man smiled appreciatively.

'He was very helpful when I came to him the other day about my research studies. Unfortunately, my bosses at the Ministry have cut me off at the knees. Have you seen in the newspapers?'

Albert nodded sympathetically.

'Still, maybe they have a point, after all,' I continued evenly. 'And with Professor Snape going to back to Norway… He obviously doesn't think there's anything to be concerned about.'

'Very true, Hermione; I wouldn't worry yourself over this. I have every faith in Severus's judgement. He's always out researching something or other; he probably knows where to find the most hidden of Augurey nests—if anyone would notice something sinister, he would.'

He raised his teacup. 'You mark my words, young lady.'

There could be no doubt of that.

'Not good for you to fret over matters beyond your control.'

I managed a smile. 'You're right, of course.'

'Now then, as much as I could sit and talk all day, I do have duties to attend…'

I got to my feet. 'My apologies for keeping you… Just one more thing, a Reading Room was mentioned to me… Is it available for public use?'

'Very much so; take a right at Severus's office and use the stairs to the first-floor landing. The Reading Room will be right before you.'

I thanked him and made my way back to the front hall and then up the steps. I followed the deep-red carpeted passage until Snape's office came into view.

" _Probably knows where to find the most hidden of Augurey nests…"_

I didn't doubt Albert in the least, and anyway, hadn't Snape admitted as much himself? He must know that my survey was reliable. He must know that Augurey numbers were being threatened. But did this mean his avoidance of the issue was simply wilful disregard, or was it in order to protect his, someone's, involvement.

I thought of the files he'd taken out when he'd spoken of the measures he, and the Society, had taken to punish those caught committing infractions. How could I say this was conclusive either way? For one thing, I never saw inside the files myself. For another, even if these cases were true, they'd be the perfect cover for deflecting suspicions aimed at his person.

To my inward astonishment, I glanced down to see my hand reaching towards the door handle. Immediately, I curled it back to me, folding my arms and sinking my chin onto my chest.

Was I really accusing this man of being a hypocrite? Of the worst kind? A criminal, even?

That was when I felt really silly. I marched away from the office, ridiculing myself for even contemplating going inside and rummaging through the contents. I rushed up the stairs, telling myself to stop making my ideas so outlandish.

Because, yes, while the hurt I still felt at being so coldly and methodically trampled over was acute, and while I did not understand Snape's decision to say one thing and then do another, I decided I had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

At this point, either stupidly, or perceptively, I think I still preferred to trust him. Perhaps not to trust him to do what was needed, but at least to behave within some semblance of propriety and legality.

That, for the time being, would be the principle I'd subscribe to while executing my next moves.

Until, of course, there became reason for me to believe otherwise.

* * *

AN: Thanks for the reviews : )


	5. Five

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Five**

The Reading Room at the The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, I admit, had a calming influence upon me. I'm sure that comes as no surprise to anyone. It was a circular room, filled with books, tables, and several little windy staircases that led upwards to, I assumed, more books.

There was a wizard sorting through books at a large desk in the centre, and though I took him to be the librarian, he paid me no heed as I wandered around the shelves. In all honesty, I wasn't sure what it was I was looking for. I was rather hoping I'd know it when I saw it.

I passed by bookshelves containing tomes on all manner of potion-making related subjects. From recipe books; the history of potion-making, autobiographies; biographies; encyclopaedias… the list went on and on. None of them, however, seemed to be worth my while.

So, next I went up one of the spiral staircases and walked through an archway to find myself in an alcove lined with yet more bookcases. Only, this time, they held far slimmer volumes, all uniformly bound with gold lettering along the spines. I tilted my head and scanned the shelf nearest to me and it soon became obvious these were copies of research dissertations. Pausing, I glanced speculatively to the far side of the little room.

I stepped across and quickly found the shelf containing the works of those whose name began with 'S'. I ran my finger along the work of Horace Slughorn, and several personages with the surname of 'Smith', until I arrived at the theses of one Severus Snape. My stomach jumped in satisfaction and I dropped to my knees to read the titles better.

Admittedly, the first title I read — _'The Benefits of Lemongrass in Preservation Techniques' —_ didn't exactly ignite inspiration, but I carried on along the row undaunted. He was clearly prolific in his work. Considering the advanced years many of his colleagues must have had on him, they had far smaller bibliographies in comparison.

' _Deconstructing Wolfsbane'_ didn't strike my fancy either.

There were some rather interesting sounding studies, I must say; studies that, under different circumstances, I would have sat down and read simply for pleasure. As it was, I wasn't there to idle my time away.

Soon, I was past 'SN' and was into the 'SO's' and I straightened with a frown, disappointed I hadn't found anything to take my eye.

I moved out through the archway and leant on the railing, looking over the library from my elevated viewpoint. There was another spiral staircase at the opposite end, leading to a similar room as the one I'd just left and I decided to try my luck there next. I was to find this one was also filled with uniformly bound books, but these were big and chunky. I pulled the nearest one to me off the shelf, enjoying for a moment the weight of it and the feel of its leather cover.

'Ah…' I murmured to myself in comprehension. These were journals; bound copies of _The_ _Practical Potioneer_ , and I wondered if journal articles might actually be more helpful than more specialised, in-depth research papers.

What I held was, _The Practical Potioneer, Vol. LVIII,_ but from a glance around the room, it appeared the journal had gone to press many, _many_ times since. Still, there was no need for me to be put off by the size of the collection. No matter how prodigious Snape's skills might be, I decided not even he could have been publishing work in the eighteenth century, after all.

I whispered a charm to help me narrow down my search and volumes started floating over the to table I pointed at with my wand. I sat down with a business-like sigh and started scanning the table of contents in each volume. A few books in, I found an article that drew my attention.

' _The Reflective Potioneer_.'

I read the whole article, and not unwillingly so. His style of writing was engaging, even to someone as uninvolved in the world of potion-making as I was. The piece was about the changing role of the potioneer over time, as the science behind their 'art' had become steadily more refined and precise; the changing of the role from the quack of the middle-ages, to the professional of the contemporary world.

But the next article to really spark me into attention was one entitled:

' _In Defence of Potion-making: A Refutation of George Cresswell.'_

The name rang an immediate bell, Snape having only mentioned it two days ago when we'd spoken. This was the man who'd been caught trafficking Ashwinder eggs. I flicked immediately to the article in question and read.

Apparently, this man Cresswell, following his shunning by the Society and the industry in general, had written a letter to several institutions, including the _Practical_ _Potioneer_ , the _Daily_ _Prophet_ , and indeed, the Ministry. Snape had included several quotes from Cresswell, and from what I could gather, Cresswell appeared to decree potion-making to be "barbaric" "outdated" and "unethical".

Before reading any further, I turned to the end of the article, to the bibliography, to see where I might find a copy of the letter. My luck was in; a copy was included in the appendix, so I flipped the book to the back.

 _Why did I jeopardise my career as a potioneer?_ the letter said. _Why did I get involved in the fraudulent scheme that I did? The answer is because I had become disillusioned with my profession; become typified by the casual indifference and carelessness the industry engenders._

 _It is my opinion the industry has become bloated with an overblown sense of its own importance. Believing itself to be a beacon of progress and modernity, when the reality couldn't be further from the truth. How modern is it of us to be chasing after defenceless creatures for their skin, for their feathers, for their claws, for their very lifeblood, in order to make such trivial mixtures as cleaning solutions and luck potions?_

 _The truth is, potioneers have too much free reign and too much arrogance. Why do we need luck potions? Why do we need Babbling Draughts? Half of the creations to have been announced by potioneers in recent times we just don't need._

 _What potioneers should be doing is working to improve what we do need. It's surely time to find an alternative to stalking fairies for their wings; farming all manner of creatures whose only purpose in life is to end up in a cauldron?_

 _Potioneers have become too obsessed with testing what they_ can _do; not what they ought to do._

 _George Cresswell_

I digested this information for several moments before turning back to Snape's article. While I can't deny I did not see an element of truth in Cresswell's appeal, I also could imagine very well how Snape's defence might go.

He ripped it to shreds, basically; this is probably why Cresswell didn't get much newsprint for his complaint. He had an answer to every one of Cresswell's points, and then some. He rightly pointed out the doubts about the credibility of anything Cresswell could say after what he'd been involved in. He also pointed out there was more significance to what Jones didn't say.

Even I knew that, for the most part, creatures did not have to be unduly harmed in order for their properties to be used in potions.

Snape obviously took the view that Jones's letter smacked of sour grapes, and I felt he could be justified in this to an extent. But I couldn't fully dismiss Jones as not having some salient points. The use of fairy wings in potions, for example; who's to say they are obtained from fairies that died of natural causes? And I also felt Cresswell's point about the use of certain potions and the validity of them was right.

Snape could list as many life-saving potions as he wanted to, no one could argue with the principle of those. But I found myself asking if it was a waste, sometimes. Was it irresponsible of us to be using our natural ecology for cleaning solutions and headache powders? Should we be looking to find alternatives?

These were questions I didn't want to answer myself. I don't think I was in a position to, but it was food for thought.

There was something else I noticed at the end of Snape's article. One of the works he'd referenced in his bibliography was a book he'd collaborated on with Theodore Ridley. Primarily, it stood out because it was entitled: _Uncovering the Secrets of the Augurey and Other Creatures._

For a moment, I just stared at the page, trying to imagine what 'secrets' there were to uncover. The Augurey is renowned for its shyness and elusiveness. Was this about discovering more about the habits and characteristics of such creatures? Perhaps. But in doing so, had they practically written a guide for the would-be illegal exporter? The company looking to save a few galleons? The potioneer looking to cut some corners?

This, I anticipated, might give me a few ideas, and I rushed back down into the library proper, heading for the shelves organised under the letter 'R'. I found Ridley's work, thinking it would be shelved under his name, but there was no such title. Intrigue growing, I moved along to 'S', to check under Snape's name, but again, there was nothing. Next, I crossed to the issuing desk and asked the wizard there if he knew where to locate the work in question.

He looked at me disdainfully. 'I'm afraid if it's not on the shelf it has been taken out of the library, Miss.'

I did not particularly appreciate this dry reminder of what happens in a library.

'Do you know when it's due to be returned?'

He huffed a bit as he glanced through a ledger, but his expression cleared a little when he found what he needed. 'Oh,' he said, 'Severus took it, therefore, I'm afraid I couldn't say when it'll be returned.'

Evidently, library rules for mere mortals didn't apply to _Severus_.

'Thanks,' I said stiffly and took my leave, thinking I was getting nowhere in this place. Outside the door, I paused and leaned against the banister of the stairs, thinking Snape would surely have had his own copy of a book he'd written. Before I could dwell further, above me, I could hear footsteps travelling down the stairs and I glanced up, wondering who might appear. The figure that rounded onto the steps was Ridley himself and I drew myself up expectantly.

'Hello,' he greeted carefully, tensing, I thought, at the sight of me.

'Mr Ridley,' I spoke brightly, 'just the person. I was looking for a copy of your book, the one you co-wrote with Severus Snape, about Augureys, but unfortunately someone has beaten me to it. I don't suppose you have a copy I could commandeer?'

He surveyed me intently for a moment. 'No,' he replied coldly. 'I believe Severus borrowed mine… Try him…'

He brushed past me with a smirk. What bare-faced cheek this man had! Was obnoxiousness the prime qualification to work in this place?

'Hang on,' I called out, and the look on his face at my tone of voice was one of affront. Clearly, obnoxiousness wasn't the only requirement—superciliousness was welcome as well.

'I've just been told that he's taken out the library's copy. Why on earth would he want yours as well?'

Ridley paused and shrugged his shoulders. 'He asked me for mine, after misplacing his own copy.'

I frowned, thinking only how completely puzzling it was that Snape should not only take the library copy, but Ridley's copy of their book, as well. Why? It was an old work, no doubt little-known beyond the world of potion-making, I thought; why would he… It seemed to me almost like he was hiding them.

It was a reasonable assumption to make, wasn't it?

'May I ask what the book contains?'

I broke off as Ridley approached me with a deep scowl of suspicion.

'Would you like to accuse Severus of something, Miss Granger?'

I flushed uncomfortably, but he carried on before I could respond.

'I see you're persisting in this matter despite the decision of your bosses. If I were you, I'd think _very_ carefully about what you are doing.'

He turned on his heel and continued down the stairs. I stared after him, cheeks aflame with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Without wasting another moment, I left the building, glad to see Albert missing from his front desk so my escape might be executed unhindered. I moved across the road and into a small square, making use of one of the benches.

My first thought was how long did I have before Ridley reported me to the Ministry again.

My second thought was that I didn't care.

Taking out my notebook, I started pondering.

As I pondered, it seemed prudent to consider the likely possibility of Snape anticipating my coming to the Society to further my enquiries. I had no doubt, _no doubt_ , he was a man of perception and cunning. And I also had no doubt about my own predictability. I know that I can be quite predictable within certain contexts… Nothing to be ashamed of, though, is it…?

So, that he might anticipate my actions seemed… inevitable, unfortunately. Therefore, was this why he'd taken both copies of his book? Did he think there was something within that could implicate him?

Or… Maybe I was just flattering myself; indulging in a bout of vanity, because maybe it wasn't me he was hiding from. After all, I'd never given him any reason to suppose I doubted him. Maybe there was someone else, somewhere else, who was on his tail…

And maybe, I decided, this was all something of nothing. Despite my earlier resolve, I was back to pointing the finger at this man. The evidence I had wasn't evidence at all. It was just my own fancies I'd flimsily based upon some suggestive circumstances.

I slapped my notebook shut and jumped to my feet. Sighing at myself, I Apparated back home.

Sometime later, I drafted a letter to the _Prophet_ , anonymously signed, questioning the Ministry's response to the issues facing our indigenous creatures. There was no guarantee they'd even publish the letter, but I had nothing to lose in sending it. I rather thought it my only option at that time. I had no real lead to pursue. No evidence to follow.

I felt disheartened that night and, admittedly, spent most of the small hours thinking of my job at the Ministry and the lack of support I received from everyone there. I've never been entirely sure why I seem to rub people up the wrong way. I know why it happened when I was young; I was too eager, too officious, too… insufferable, I suppose. I thought I'd managed to soften those traits over time; maybe even out-grow them.

That's what I thought, anyway. But the reality of me being well into my late twenties, with my social circle extending only as far as the bottle of wine I was drinking, pointed to something _far_ different.

And carrying on with this pursuit, I knew, would not endear me any further amongst my colleagues. Yet, even recognising this, I wasn't about to give it up—not for that sake, anyway. The point was, these moments of reflection always passed me by without injury. It was never something I let myself dwell upon for an extended length of time. I'd get up in the morning and my mind would only be focused on the job at hand—not self-pity; not regret.

On the morning in question, a surprise awaited me on my windowsill. It was an owl bearing a nondescript envelope, but the note inside certainly wasn't unremarkable. It was a small square of parchment and in the centre was written an address—nothing more.

And it was the address of one _George Cresswell_.

I turned over both the note and the envelope for a sign as to the sender, but there was nothing to be found. The handwriting, similarly, bore no evidence as to its origin for it was unfamiliar to me.

Stumped, I simply sat on my bed contemplating the possible meaning behind the note. Why should I need the address of George Cresswell? Who should send it?

I looked at the specifics of the address more closely and then I realised there _was_ some significance to be realised. I scrambled out of bed and dashed towards my map, still spread out in my kitchen. George Cresswell, it appeared, was residing within the boundary of Snowdonia national park.

That was it. I hurried to dress and then collected my things together. I did not know why I was being referred to Cresswell, and I did not know who was doing the referring, but I wasn't going to ignore this pointer.

I Apparated using the one of the nearest spots we'd used when conducting our research in the area, and then I made my way to the house in question on foot, using the time to work out what I would say in greeting, unsure as I was, as to what I was supposed to be finding there.

Was I supposed to assume Cresswell was involved in the illegal selling of Augureys? In which case, turning up on his doorstep and giving the game away might not be the best option. Still, I had one opening gambit available to me that just might buy me an audience without evoking suspicion.

I arrived at a small house perched on a hillside. I strode up to the door and knocked confidently, setting my shoulders squarely in preparation. The door opened and a white-haired man of some age appeared.

'Mr Cresswell,' I said, proceeding to introduce myself as a researcher from the Ministry. I hadn't said much more before a look of dark anger came over his face.

'Just because I made a mistake in a former life doesn't give you leave to accuse _me_ of what's happening in _there_.' He glared angrily over my head, where I knew the Dyfi forest was visible in the distance.

He moved to shut the door and I put out my arm to halt him. 'Wait,' I called firmly, 'I… Why would I accuse you of that?'

'Everyone else is. The _Prophet_ enjoyed suggesting my culpability what with my proximity to the forest!'

His eyes blazed at me and I fought not to flounder.

' _I_ only wanted to ask you about a letter you once wrote, four years ago, about…' I trailed off and bit my lip, unable to temper the rush of curiosity ignited within me. 'What's going on in there?' I asked quietly, motioning with my head towards the forest.

He scowled and moved to shut the door again. 'I'm not getting involved.'

'Please,' I urged. 'If you know something—'

'Who put you on to me?' he asked roughly, looking beyond me, as if expecting to see that I'd brought company.

I hesitated over whether to reveal the anonymous note I received. 'I told you, I recently read your letter dismissing potion-making, and I—'

'That was years ago, and I was rubbished by that smug—' he choked off his words with a fierce look of contempt.

'Perhaps you were simply ahead of your time. You can't fail to have noticed how recent issues have swayed public opinion. If you know who is harming the Augureys—what better way to put yourself in a better light.'

Cresswell shook his head so vehemently, I was nearly taken aback. 'I made _one_ mistake after _years_ of blood and sweat I put into my work. Did Snape give me an opportunity to make amends? No. He ended my career without a second's thought. One word from him and no one wanted my services ever again. Do you think I'm likely to risk his wrath further?'

Once again, he started pushing the door closed.

'Why should you risk _his_ wrath?' I argued with a thrill. 'Why should—'

'I saw them,' he spat in a hushed tone. 'I saw them late at night, in the forest… Seems Snape's found a new use for his old Death Eater robe… You didn't hear it from me… right?'

He raised an eyebrow at me before slamming the door shut. I couldn't stop him this time, simply because I was stunned; frozen to the spot. When my wits were re-gathered, I walked dumbly from the house, coming to a stop when I had a clear view across the valley to the forest in question. I stared at the barren peaks and then to the tree-tops of the Dyfi forest.

I could very well believe there could be someone, or some people, out there, capturing Augureys, be it the phoenixes themselves or their eggs, and selling them on the black market. The money to be gained from such endeavours, I knew, could be great. That this might be one of their hunting grounds was supported by the facts I'd complied during the survey.

But Snape being involved at the heart of it? Hearing the accusation from someone else's lips only made me realise how ridiculous it all was. I'd had my suspicions—how could I not after witnessing what I had? Yet, when it came down to it, I couldn't countenance it.

Maybe Snape did have his own agenda. Maybe he did have something to hide. But I could hardly take seriously the word of a man who had, once upon a time, been involved in the very crime he was implicating Snape in. Never mind the obvious grudge he held against him.

The truth was, deep down, whatever my feelings against the man, I didn't want to believe he was out there, up to his neck in criminality, and for something as trite as money.

I felt in my pocket for the note I'd received that morning. The unassailable fact, however, was that someone had pointed me towards Cresswell. Someone who clearly knew what I was up to, and that, actually, left a fairly narrow field of suspects.

Despite being confused as to what it all added up to, I knew where my efforts would next be directed.

The forest.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing : )


	6. Six

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Six**

I took my time, walking slowly into the Dyfi forest, enjoying the quiet of my surroundings and finding it a good opportunity in which to order my thoughts.

I'd been in this particular forest before. It was one of the places I'd visited with my team, after we'd identified concerns with the number of Augurey breeding-pairs living within the area. We'd not found anything notable then, and I wasn't sure what I hoped to find this time around. In fact, I was confident I'd find nothing. Still, I could hope for inspiration, if nothing else.

And, I must say, I _was_ inspired, except, it wasn't very productive. It's not often my imagination comes to life, but under the shroud of the canopy and confronted by the quiet all around me, my mind conjured murky scenes of crime and skulduggery; people stealing into the forest in the dead of night, laying traps, maybe—hunting nests…

The images were so vivid, I nearly succeeded in scaring myself. A chill came over me and I paused in a clearing, peering into the dense woodland and listening hard, as if expecting to spot some mysterious figure lurking behind a tree trunk. A figure wearing a black, hooded cloak, maybe…

But I didn't imagine it was Severus Snape, even as I thought back to Cresswell and his claims. Besides, if Snape were involved, he would surely be at the top of any organisation, I thought. He'd have people to do the lurking for him.

I looked all around me, but there was, as expected, nothing. No sign of anyone having recently been there. Nothing…

I turned my head up to study what was above me. It's always hard to identify the potential home of an Augurey phoenix, and there were none visible to me at that time. Anyone looking to interfere in their natural habitat really would have to have specialised knowledge, I decided.

Naturally, _Uncovering the Secrets of the Augurey and Other Creatures_ by Theodore Ridley and Severus Snape, pricked at me impatiently for consideration. Luckily, I'd noted down the institution responsible for publishing this work and I fully intended to pay them a visit.

My next step would be to visit the offices of the _Practical_ _Potioneer_.

These, it turned out, were situated in London, squashed in between a Muggle restaurant and a bank. There was no time wasted between me returning from Snowdonia and then appearing on their doorstep.

There is only one word that fits to describe the premises I found myself in: _dingy_. It was in marked contrast to the sophistication of the Society up in Edinburgh.

A bespectacled man looked up from where he sat at a writing desk. 'May I help you?'

I introduced myself and then detailed my purpose for being there. 'Do you retain the original manuscripts of your publications? And if so, would it be possible for me to view them?'

He didn't look too put out by my request and that buoyed me up. Clearly, they were a much friendlier faction of the potion-making industry here.

'Depends what you're looking for,' he replied, assessing me over his glasses.

'It's, ah, a work published seven years ago, called _Uncovering the Secrets of the Augurey and Other Creatures._ It was written jointly by Theodore Ridley and Severus Snape.'

He didn't look particularly impressed by my choice. He frowned in thought. 'Sounds a bit dry… No wonder you can't find it anywhere.' He smiled. 'I'm sure we'll have it in the archives. Ideally, you should have made an appointment, but I'm not busy, so if you'd like to follow me… You'll have to view it in situ, I'm afraid; we don't allow them to be removed from the building.'

I indicated my ready agreement and followed him down a set of stairs into a gloomy passage. Torches flared to life as we passed by them and we had to walk to the very end before a door materialised.

'Here we go,' said the clerk, removing his wand.

I stuffed my hands into my bag and removed a scroll of parchment and a quill. 'I'm allowed to take notes?'

He nodded as the door opened and revealed an impossibly large room filled with stacks and stacks of papers, folders, boxes, books, plates… It was never-ending.

He saw my expression of dismay, because he said with a little laugh, 'Don't worry; we do have a system, despite appearances.'

It was true. He was able to quickly locate the records for the year in question, and then he rummaged through an alphabetised range of boxes. I watched with great anticipation… Can't believe how naïve I was.

'A-ha!' he trilled, lifting off a lid and peering inwards. 'Oh,' he remarked slowly. 'That's… odd…'

'How do you mean?' I asked, standing there with my quill and parchment poised.

His voice was muffled over the sound of his rummaging. 'It's not here.'

I felt myself droop with disappointment. 'Are you quite sure? Could it have been misplaced?'

He shook his head vigorously. 'No; they're charmed to remain in order; they can't be removed any further than...'

I matched his frown, filled with resignation. Evidently, _someone_ had circumvented the charm. I stuffed my writing implements away with a sigh.

'There must be an explanation,' commented my puzzled companion.

He mumbled something about investigating further, but I took my leave. I felt there was no point me hanging around. They wouldn't find the manuscript; I was confident they wouldn't. I was confident someone had come in, broken in perhaps, and taken it.

The big question, of course, was who?

Uneasily, I thought of Snape. I thought of him 'misplacing' his own copy, taking the only one from the library at the Society, borrowing Ridley's as well, and now, the original manuscript had disappeared from the archives of the _Practical Potioneer_.

This couldn't be ignored; it added up to _something_ , I knew. I just couldn't, or didn't have the right facts to, put my finger on it. Thwarted, yet again, I stopped off in the Leaky Cauldron for a pick-me-up in the form of some dinner.

Trust my luck, but a few of my colleagues were stood at the bar when I entered. Before I could do a u-turn, I was spotted.

'How's the holiday going, Hermione?' one of them called. 'The office has been really quiet while you've been off.'

This was no casual observation, I was sure; it was very much pointed, and I didn't have the patience to deal with their digs that evening. When they reluctantly offered to get me a drink, I told them I had better things to do and left. No doubt they enjoyed a half hour's moan about me afterwards, but it wouldn't have been the first time, and well, I just didn't care.

I went elsewhere to find sustenance and, following that, spent an hour or two wandering the streets like an urchin, trying to plan out what I would need to do next. I didn't reach much of a consensus with myself, to be honest, despite the time spent deliberating. I considered the possibility of trying my luck with Cresswell again, but doubts over his reliability put me off. Beyond that, I was stuck.

It was late when I finally returned home. I Apparated directly into my living room, collapsing straight onto the sofa with a sigh. I rubbed a hand over my eyes, enjoying a chance to relax, and pondered over the possibility of heading right to bed. It seemed the best option for me after the day I'd had, and I was about follow my own advice, when:

'Well… Shall we sit here all night?' sounded out of the darkness.

I was scared to _death_ at the sudden sound of this voice; it's no exaggeration. I yelped with fright, leapt to my feet, brought the lights to life, and then thrust out my wand in the direction of my intruder.

I gasped in horror. 'What on earth are _you_ doing here? _How_ did you get in here?'

Severus Snape was sitting at my kitchen table, looking as if he owned it.

'What do you want?' I queried again, and, I fear, a little tremulously; though I maintain my wand was steady.

He, however, seemed unconcerned my wand was aimed at him. His own was nowhere to be seen. He stood and I trained my wand to match his progress step-for-step. One of his disdainful looks I received for my trouble.

'Oh, give over, Granger,' he muttered, having the actual cheek to sound long-suffering, when it was _me_ being imposed on! 'If you were really planning on it, you'd have hexed me by now.'

I readjusted my clammy grip on my wand, but did not lower it. It was my indignation over how unfailingly foolish he made me feel that I kept it pointed at him, with a ready hex poised on the tip of my tongue.

He glanced around the room and then the lights were dimming considerably, while the curtains started drawing themselves shut across all the windows. Apparently satisfied, he settled himself into an armchair.

'This is cosy,' he remarked sardonically.

I could only stare.

'Have a seat, Miss Granger.'

The complete front of the man—barging into my home and then ordering _me_ about in it—left me speechless. Still does when I think back on it.

' _Sit_ _down_ ,' he said next, when I hadn't moved, and this time, there was an underlying edge of steel in his voice.

'Oh, I'll sit, Snape, but under my own steam, thank you! How dare you intrude into my house like this! By rights, I should bloody well send for the Aurors and have you removed! How long have you been here? Have you had a good little snoop about my things, eh? And these are _my_ lights,' I continued resentfully. 'If I want them dimmed, _I'll_ do the dimming!'

So saying, the lamps roared back to their full glory. Not two seconds later, they were back to a dull glow. I gaped at him, furiously re-igniting them again. It was so ludicrous to be carrying on in this way, but the principle of it pricked so irritably at me that I couldn't help it.

My defiance gave way to helplessness when he just sat there, casually unwrapping a liquorice wand, yes, a _liquorice_ _wand_ , and said, 'Finished?' before putting it in his mouth.

I let out a furious breath and sat down, slamming my wand onto the coffee table so hard I was briefly worried I might have broken it. I put my chin in my hands and worked on calming myself down.

It didn't help that his next words were:

'Believe me, Granger, rummaging around _your_ personal effects is so low on my list of priorities, it's non-existent.'

I glared at him from the corner of my eye; he was examining his cuffs coolly, chewing on his liquorice. I frowned to myself, wondering how on earth I was supposed to play this. After all, I'd discovered certain things about him, unverified things, certainly, that couldn't be ignored. The facts, admittedly, were scant, and so I knew I'd have to tread carefully. He's led me up the garden path once (umpteen times) before—I was determined not to traverse it again.

What can I say? I'm an optimist at heart.

'Why aren't you in Norway?' I asked carefully, feeling this was a reasonable opening gambit.

'Why indeed?' he replied serenely, as if my question had been some unanswerable, philosophical conundrum.

I nearly despaired right there and then over his complete insufferability; I'm not sure that's even a proper word, but if it's not, it's one I made up to apply solely to him.

'What sort of answer is that?'

'What sort of question is it?' he shot back immediately.

'That's where you went!'

'Was it?' he posed, getting to his feet and stalking over to the kitchen table again. He glanced at my ever-present map; I was only grateful my more recent discoveries and observations were documented in my notebook—kept on my person.

Suddenly, he was laughing quietly to himself; a deep chuckle, and I was almost afraid to imagine what it signified.

'People are so gullible,' he murmured, and I felt myself tense expectantly. 'I mean, what _the hell_ would I be doing traipsing around a Norwegian fjord?' He looked at me directly. ' _Glaciers_ , of course, being such an indispensable resource for potion-making.'

He smiled to himself, while I clenched my jaw and wondered if he might be a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

'Are you saying you weren't in Norway? That you never were?'

'Never been north of Scotland in my life.' He sat at the table and pulled one my charts towards him.

'I don't understand,' I admitted reluctantly.

'I didn't you expect you to—you've arrived very much in the middle of this story.'

I decided he obviously enjoyed speaking in riddles and metaphors. I enjoyed it far less. 'Are you going to start at the beginning, then?'

He took his time replying. 'I haven't decided.'

I nearly screamed in frustration. I dug my nails into my thigh to release some of my irritation, and when I spoke, it was through decidedly clenched teeth.

'So what precisely, may I ask, have you broken into my house for?'

He looked up from his study and his eyes narrowed. 'Because you, Miss Granger, are incapable of keeping your nose out of what doesn't concern you.'

My jaw dropped in outrage.

'You've seriously jeopardised my plans—'

'Your _plans_?' I questioned, jumping to my feet and joining him at the table. 'What plans might they be? Frolicking in the Dyfi forest, perhaps?'

I was trying to match his dry manner of speaking. Unfortunately, instead of annoying him, I appeared to amuse him.

'I assure you, I've never frolicked in my life.'

I could believe that.

'But you have been in the forest?'

'Of course,' he confirmed calmly.

I hesitated about saying anything further, not wanting to reveal too much of my hand, such that it was, too soon. He evidently noticed my indecision, however.

'Something you want to ask me regarding the forest in question?'

Still caught in two minds, I responded with a burning question of my own. 'Why are you here?'

His expression was maddeningly inscrutable as he reached inside his robe and pulled out a small leather-bound notebook. At his leisure, he flicked through it until he found what he desired.

'This morning you visited Mr George Cresswell. Who put you onto him?'

I was astonished. Again. My mouth fell open but no sound came out for a time.

'How do you know I went to see him?' I managed to eke out.

'You really should have taken the opportunity I gave you to get out of this business, Granger.' His mouth was a firm line of disapproval.

'I see… That's what you'd call questioning my integrity in a room full of Ministry officials, is it? An… _opportunity_ …'

Perhaps this is something I should have kept quiet for a while longer, but I was so riled and felt so frustratingly on the back-foot, I couldn't stop myself. And it was worth it for the brief flicker of surprise that appeared across his face. It was very brief; but a concession, nonetheless.

He nodded to himself. 'I wondered at your subsequent actions.'

'Oh, supposed to put myself by the wayside, was I?' I grimaced.

'If you had any sense, yes.'

I rolled my eyes at his insistence on being so bloody cryptic all of the bloody time. I had no idea what he was talking about; it seemed to me he'd managed to answer precisely none of my questions.

'Did you trespass only to affirm my apparent lack of sense?'

'Was merely a bonus, Miss Granger,' he replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

I was about ready to demand he leave, unable to put up any longer with him enjoying himself at my expense. Perhaps he recognised I was at the end of my tether, because what he said next erased a significant part of my ire in one fell swoop.

'If you must know, I've been aware of a scam involving the shipping, and illegal breeding, of protected species in this country. Indeed, I've been looking into it for some time.'

A thousand and one different questions jumped to my lips, but, wisely, I bit them off.

'I was getting close to them,' he continued, 'until _your lot_ came parading through the forests and woodlands with your bloody maps and measuring sticks.'

The scorn was nearly palpable.

I opened my mouth indignantly, but he overrode any chance to protest by leaning forward in his seat and looking properly animated, for a change.

'Yes,' he stated firmly. ' _You_ managed to send them all to ground! What kind of idiot is going to risk their chances when there are Ministry personnel crawling about everywhere? Busybodies sticking their heads into burrows, and flying around treetops, and poking their noses under rocks for sign of a bloody flobberworm!'

He glared at me, and Merlin, it was one of his specially patented ones, because I could still feel it well after he'd turned his eyes back to his notebook. How did he have the ability to trivialise something, something important to me, to the point where I felt a little a bit mortified—for _myself_? How does that happen? I still can't stand it.

I should very much like to have defended myself, and righteously so, but… he didn't give me a chance.

'Just when I thought I'd picked up the scent again, the bloody _Prophet_ starts stirring up a hornet's nest because _you_ can't keep a lid on anything, and suddenly I'm having to publicly account for myself. Perhaps now you see the merits of a phantom expedition to Norway?'

I was silent for a time—absorbing what he'd revealed. He appeared content to let me have a moment of reflection.

He spent the interlude unwrapping another liquorice wand.

'You wanted to appear as though you were unbothered? To appear as though you thought there was nothing in the _Prophet's_ reports? And with the Norway trip, people would think precisely that.'

'Quite so.'

I looked curiously at the curtains, which he'd been at pains to close once the lights had come on. 'You've been hiding away all this time? How—'

'Irrelevant, Granger. Suffice it to say, I _know_ how to operate incognito…'

I wondered if there were anyone else involved in this supposed charade, but decided he'd not tell me if I asked.

'And fobbing off the Ministry…?'

'The perpetrators would have dispersed long before the Ministry could have marshalled an investigation. Better they just stay out of it.'

His tone was snide, but I only felt a flush of relief that the hadn't really distrusted my work. Of course, this left me feeling not a little foolish. After all, I didn't know this wasn't another tall tale, did I? I hated that, apparently, I could be so easily appeased by him. I summoned the hurt I'd felt as I'd listened to the way he and the others had discredited me, and it was still potent. Regardless of his intentions, he'd used me to manoeuvre his pieces into place. Thinking on this cavalier behaviour served to dampen any vanity on my part.

'You hope to catch them red-handed, then…'

'What else is there?'

'Who are they?'

Maybe my resentment over his behaviour was now creeping into my tone, for he surveyed me piercingly and I tried not to squirm.

'Perhaps you'd like to suggest a culprit?' he challenged.

I thought about telling him what I'd found out—about him. Admittedly, if this story of his would prove to be true, then my doubts could easily be rubbished. The trouble, however, was that I didn't know if it was true. Perhaps that sentimental, emotional part of me believed he was trustworthy. But logic told me to look at the precedents—told me I needed proof. So, again, I mentioned nothing of my suspicions.

'I've no idea,' I said, as blankly as I could manage.

He didn't press the point, but I wasn't so gullible to take it to mean he believed me.

'I've an idea of some who are involved, but this all blew up just when I was near to unmasking the ringleader.'

'I see.'

I didn't see. There was much I still didn't understand. Furthermore, it sounded to me as though he were being deliberately vague, and, naturally, that didn't help my case towards him.

'How did you know I went to see Cresswell today? Have you been spying on me?'

He smirked. 'I hope your vanity isn't too bruised when I say I've not been spying on you.'

I blushed despite myself.

'What did he say to you?'

I wanted to ignore his question, but I thought failing to answer would speak just as much volume as if I did the truth.

'He's seen some people in the forest, at night, that's all.'

'Now there's a crime…' he sneered.

'He doesn't speak very highly of you,' I added, a little antagonistically, it must be said. Still, why I thought he would show any emotion at this, I don't know. He looked like he couldn't give two hoots about Cresswell's opinion.

'You maintain you're unaware who put you on to Cresswell?'

'Yes,' I hissed through clenched teeth. 'You have an idea, though, I take it?'

I felt it was so; if the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth was anything to go by.

'Perhaps.'

Something snapped within me then. ' _Look_ ,' I said firmly, getting to my feet. 'I'll admit freely you know more about this matter than I do. If that's only what you wanted to satisfy yourself over, then there, you have it. Otherwise, I fail to see why you bothered coming here to tell me half a story that raises more questions that it bloody well answers. Answers, incidentally, you evidently want to keep to yourself. As far as I can see, this is nothing to do with me. You may go your way, and I shall go mine, and I can only hope we shan't meet in the middle.'

I was proud of my little speech. I was proud of the authority in my tone. I was pleased the derisive note I'd ended on sparked a faint glimmer of anger in his eyes.

And when I pointed my wand at the door for it to swing open, I felt satisfaction. My thoughts were why should I have to put up with this behaviour? I didn't owe him anything. I didn't want to get involved with him; not when I didn't fully trust or understand him. Not when he thought he could manipulate me without care. Not when he rode roughshod over propriety and wouldn't even explain himself for it.

His chair was pushed back with a sharp screech and I only just managed to contain a flinch as he stood. He came around to my side of the table and, for a quick moment, I forgot any satisfaction at getting a rise out of him.

'Nothing to do with you?' he posed, repeating my words with an ominous relish. 'Even knowing half of the story is one half too much; _far_ too much…'

My mouth dried out as he glared down at me and I think I felt myself physically shrink.

'You, Miss Granger, have walked blindly into very real danger.'

I think I became frozen to the spot. My faculties couldn't seem to get beyond his words to process anything further.

I watched the anger in his face melt into a sort of smug triumph.

'Shall I… close the door on my way out?' he purred softly.

Defeated comprehensively.

Again.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading : )


	7. Seven

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Seven**

I see myself as someone capable of humility, when a situation calls for it. But squaring up to Snape, feeling uncomfortably out of my depth, it was hard not for me mulishly stand my ground in order to save as much face as I could. All I really wanted was to get him to leave. Yet, I couldn't ignore his warning; otherwise I really would have confirmed I was without sense.

Swallowing a resentful huff, I went to close the door myself. 'What danger?' I asked eventually.

He sat back down in the armchair, looking vaguely pleased with himself. 'What do you think? There's Galleons to be made through selling items illegally—lots of Galleons. Those involved aren't going to want their little gold mine to be jeopardised, never mind their liberty. Therefore they're unlikely to sit back and allow some slip of a girl the chance to unmask their criminal deeds. Do not think they wouldn't be prepared to take more, ah, direct action, shall we say, towards you.'

This little speech, in my opinion, exemplifies rather nicely the type of man he is. I'd, apparently, ventured into rather dangerous waters, but to hear him speak of it, it was the most mundane thing in the world. This also explained further his efforts in hiding his involvement. He'd covered his tracks comprehensively, while I, on the other hand, had conducted my enquiries with little guile or subterfuge.

'We should inform the Aurors, then,' I suggested firmly.

My word; it was as if I'd hexed him. Personally, I very much enjoyed his flinch of outrage.

'I'm sure Harry and Ron would be happy to take the case on,' I continued with a studied air of pragmatism.

'If you truly believe that to be the best course of action, I've clearly overestimated you.'

'My, I can't imagine _that_ happens often,' I muttered to myself, hurrying on when his expression darkened. 'There's danger, then,' I commented. 'I'm confident I can take care of myself.'

I watched him, and it was in retaliation to his aggravating behaviour that I purposefully wondered whether this was all some sort of personal warning from him. Maybe it was _he_ who posed the danger. Maybe it was _he_ who had the little gold mine to protect.

'If you say so,' he remarked derisively.

'Well, what do you want from me, then? Do you want me to step away from the matter? Because I assure you I—'

'Spare me your nobility, please; I'm not interested in it.'

I snapped my jaw shut and wondered despairingly when this ordeal was going to end. His next words, however, jarred my irritation from the fore, leaving only surprise.

'I want co-operation,' he said succinctly.

' _Co_ - _operation_?' I questioned with confusion and doubt. 'Forgive me… You hardly seem the co-operating sort.'

His raised a cautionary hand. 'My blushes, Granger.'

I nearly laughed despite myself; only he would find in my criticism a compliment.

'I can't deny your involvement wouldn't open up avenues of investigation that are closed to me while I'm in Norway.'

I frowned. 'So much for the danger, then.'

'You'd simply have to trust in my ability to mitigate that danger, wouldn't you?'

The look he gave me was piercing and I felt uncomfortable and unsure. Did I trust him? I could hardly tell. Did I even _want_ to co-operate with him? How would I be able to put up with his infuriating sense of superiority?

'What if I don't want to work with you?'

I'm not sure where I found the courage to say this out loud to him, but it must have been borne from the careless part of me. At my words, his eyes had a flinty gleam and it was difficult for me to face them directly.

'Well, then,' he murmured slowly, 'I shall just have to ensure my… friends at the Ministry are aware of your little… quest, won't I?'

I'd liked to have brushed him off by claiming my colleagues at the Ministry wouldn't give a fig what I was up to. However, while this might ordinarily have been the case, I knew they would care if I managed to end up discrediting them. And they would surely want to head off this possibility post-haste.

I scowled at him, but inwardly I was not so very opposed to 'co-operating', as he put it. After all, he'd made much use of me, why then should I not seek to find an advantage in him? Of course, what put me off slightly was the very real prospect that I'd get nowhere near trumping him in any way, shape, or form. Still. I could try, I decided; what other options did I have available to me?

None, was the answer.

I wasn't entirely sure what, in this instance, his ability to 'mitigate the danger' might entail, but it would have been reckless of me to deny it might prove handy.

Still, after his performance I was hardly about to lie down and let him have free reign.

'May I clarify something?' I asked preciously.

I took the tightening of his lips to be an affirmation for me to proceed.

'Your definition of 'co-operating' doesn't preclude the hiding of certain facts and ideas from the other party, does it?'

His eyes narrowed suspiciously and I was pleased to see it. 'Just wondered… for my own peace of mind,' I continued evenly.

'If you have some information, then—'

'As I said,' I interrupted firmly. 'For my own peace of mind.'

His expression looked perilously close to thunderous. I didn't care. He had some bloody cheek asking me for my information and my assistance, when, clearly, he wasn't prepared to give me all the facts he had. So why should I, in turn, be forthcoming? I would keep whatever cards I had close; at least until I could be sure of his motives and part played in this whole issue.

He seemed content to fume for a moment or two, but when the ire faded into a grim resolve, I was suddenly worried he'd decided to forsake my help altogether. Feeling a blast of indignation buffet me, I nearly exploded into a diatribe about his hypocrisy and double-standards.

Luckily, before I managed to embarrass myself, he uttered a terse, 'Fine,' and shot to his feet.

Thrown, a tad, I automatically rose with him, and he looked at me so fiercely it nearly sent me reeling backwards.

'Don't do anything until I've been in touch,' he warned. And then he Disapparated into thin air!

My jaw went slack as I stared incomprehensibly at my now empty living room. I let out a huge groan of impotent anger and threw myself back onto the settee, thinking I'd never had the misfortune of meeting anyone so indescribably trying to one's patience. When the hell was he going to be in touch? Where the hell had he gone? How the hell could I contact him, if I needed to?

I sighed and screwed my eyes shut against the frustration of it all, only wondering what the _hell_ I'd let myself in for.

Perhaps unsurprisingly enough, I didn't sleep very well that night, even though I was tired. My mind kept troubling itself over possibilities and scenarios involving a whole variety of people; Snape very much a key player. But I wondered about Cresswell, too and his motives. I also tried to fashion a line of reasoning why someone other than Snape would want to remove the original manuscript of his and Ridley's work from the _Practical_ _Potioneer_ archives.

Was it Ridley, perhaps? Was he yet another person feeding me misinformation? From the impression he'd given me, I decided I could hardly put it past him.

In the morning, after a fitful few hours sleep, I awoke to find my anonymous letter published in the _Prophet_. I was mildly surprised to see it, but pleased nonetheless. It only remained to be seen whether anyone might reply and, in doing so, help to keep the matter afloat. Snape, I felt, would not condone my action. He seemed very much to believe there were benefits to the public leaving the issue on the back-burner, and maybe he was right, but maybe he was wrong, as well. I wasn't prepared to subscribe to his methodology straightaway.

And what was I supposed to do now? Put my life (for lack of a better word) on hold until Snape condescended to greet me with his presence again? Seemed to me I could be waiting forever until that moment! I felt so disgruntled; my irritation from the previous night obviously hadn't dissipated.

I wrenched the covers off me and sprang to my feet, determined that I should spend the day productively, regardless of my mood. I was halfway across the room before I cursed aloud, having remembered it was Sunday.

It was Sunday, and I'd forgotten to send my customary note of apology to the Burrow for being too busy to attend Sunday dinner. More often than not, I really was busy, but there were times when I just… couldn't face it, and this day was no exception. I had a long-established pattern worked out; in order to maintain a certain sense of propriety and courteousness, I only ever attended one Sunday a month, but this month it seemed I'd be there twice.

Resigned to the idea there would be no productivity after all, I dressed slowly and made myself presentable. My appearance may not be one of my primary concerns, but I do have _some_ pride in it. The routine helped relax me, and by the time I was ready to Apparate, I felt maybe it was no bad thing that I had somewhere to go—somewhere, for a change, that didn't involve work.

However, there are reasons why I'm reluctant to regularly participate when the Weasleys gather _en_ _masse_.

For one thing, it never helps that Arthur always shouts, 'The Hermit's here!' whenever I arrive.

'You're like a little hermit,' he once said to me, after I'd spent several weeks buried in my house-elf reform with little contact beyond it. 'Hermione the little hermit,' he'd said, delighting in what he thought was his hitherto hidden comic genius.

I'm perfectly up for a laugh… most of the time. And actually, to be fair to him, at that point, it was quite an accurate observation of my behaviour. Unfortunately, the name has managed to stick, off and on, ever since. And it's now turned just ever so slightly patronising. To the point where I have to clench my fists as I smile and pretend the joke is still funny.

And the children have happily taken it as a cue to call me 'Auntie Hermit,' instead of even attempting a pronunciation of my actual name. They all think it's hilarious.

As I entered the kitchen at the Burrow, Molly bustled in and exclaimed, with _far_ too much exaggeration, I thought, at my presence. And then, to make matters worse, she launched right into commiserations about the state of my career.

'Not like you to take holiday time, Hermione,' she lamented sadly. 'I was saying to Arthur, "Can you remember the last time our Hermit took time off work?" Well, we neither of us could remember any instance of it.' She shook her head admonishingly and her red hair quivered. 'To think they could just ignore your work like that; after _all_ the effort you put in!'

Then I was enveloped in her bosom—squeezed perilously close to asphyxiation.

'It's all right, Molly,' I eked out. 'You know I'm not easily put-off; just needed a breather for a week, that's all.'

'You want to get out of that department, my dear; why don't you see if Arthur can get you transferred into his?'

'Oh,' I smiled, feeling warmed despite myself at her exuberance. 'Thank you; I'll stick it out a while longer, I'm sure.'

She frowned deeply. 'Just as long as you don't burn yourself out. You'll never find a husband if you can't get out of bed every morning.'

And that's another reason for rationing my appearances at the Burrow.

I was released and sent off in search of the others. I opened the door to the sitting room and was immediately assaulted with a cacophony of squeals, greetings, compliments and, of course, the compulsory inquiry as to whether I'd found myself a man yet. That's the usual pattern when I first enter the fray consisting of my friends and their families (I sometimes wonder how it is I ended up with so many honorary nieces and nephews when I hadn't even reached thirty).

And I tell them, as I do every time I'm there, _there's no man, I'm too busy, and in any case, present company excluded, all the men I know are idiots and/or cads_. I always present to them a case in point, and this week it was Bertie, my boss. I soon had them all scowling and sighing when I described his behaviour recently. Rather neatly, it also manoeuvred them away from the awkward subject of my non-existent social-life.

Why do people set standards for other people to live by? They were never able to accept I might be perfectly fine living on my own; that I was perfectly content, the majority of the time, with the life I lived. I know they never meant anything by it; that they were only ever looking out for me. But, I was always left with the uncomfortable sense I was lacking in some way, because I did not have a husband, or a family, or even the faintest prospect of one.

Maybe I made it worse for myself. Perhaps if I'd gone there more regularly, they wouldn't have felt the need for the same interrogation on each visit.

I always enjoyed the company once I was there, but unfortunately, I'm not one to cope with boisterousness for an extended length of time; and that's only Harry and Ron, never mind the children.

So, after dinner, I often took in a refreshing breath of air outside in the garden, with a little stroll about. I've always enjoyed the luxury of the Weasleys' open, wild, garden as a good place in which to think and reflect. In this instance, I stood at the far end of the garden. I thought about my job at the Ministry and the possibility that, very soon, I would seriously consider looking for a new position. All was lovely and peaceful; the only noise from a brook that gurgled its way across the land, and, from a distance…. the sound of Al shouting 'Auntie Hermit! Come and play Gobstones with me!'

I smiled to myself resignedly and twisted round. 'You set them up and I'll be there in a moment,' I called back.

Stealing a few more moments of solitude, I experimentally dipped the toe of my boot into the stream and watched the water rush on over it. My boot was nearly joined by my whole person, however, when a nearby voice said:

'Perhaps Auntie Hermit would play Gobstones with me, instead?'

I steadied myself and looked up with dismay to see a familiar figure detach itself from the trees. 'This has got to stop, Snape; how did you know I was here?'

He stood on the opposite bank, still partially in the shadow of the trees. 'Simple piece of deduction, Granger. Where else would you be on a Sunday afternoon if not at your house or Potter's?'

I stared, hardly enthused by the fact that within only a few hours of acquaintance, Severus Snape had apparently managed to reason out the staid mechanics of my existence. I even had a strange little vision of _him_ asking me when I was going to finally find myself a husband. I was forced to put a hand to my mouth to stifle a quick laugh.

'What do you want?' I asked gruffly, in order to maintain my air of impatience. 'Wasn't expecting your swift return.'

'I've heard whispers of a possible attempt on an Augurey nest, in a forest near Cheshire. Thought you might be interested.'

'What? An _attempt_?' I spluttered indignantly. 'I should get Harry—'

'For the love of Merlin, Granger, you really are a simpleton. What on earth would be the point in waltzing in with the Ministry's worst and confronting two, maybe three, blockheads trying to steal a few eggs on the order of someone, I'm willing to bet, they do not even know.'

I huffed furiously.

'We can stop them interfering with the nests, but there's no point apprehending them until we can establish precisely the web they are but _one_ single thread of. They won't know any answers to your questions.'

'What are you proposing, then?'

'We go to Cheshire, obviously.'

'Fine; fine. Let me go and say my goodbyes—'

He cut me off with a snort. 'I haven't got time to hang about while you dally with your _goodbyes_. We're going to Cheshire, not voyaging round the world; either you come now or you don't come at all.'

My _God_ I wished I could tell him to stuff it. I longed to say, 'Fine; I won't bloody well come!' But I knew I had to take my chances where I could, and no doubt he knew this too; hence his casual sarcasm and general disregard for my opinions and, yes, feelings.

Reluctantly, and with much ill-grace, I snatched out my wand and conjured my Patronus to convey my excuses to the Weasley assembly behind me.

I stepped across the brook and impatiently crossed my arms. 'Shall we?'

Without a word, he removed what I assumed to be a Portkey and proffered it to me. With a certain element of uncertainty, I reached out to touch it and then we were gone. When I was back on solid ground again, I was surrounded by dense woodland and accompanied by a man whose motives, I had to admit, were unclear to me. Suddenly, I was quite sure this was actually the last place I wanted to be.

'Where did you get your… information from?' I queried, knowing full well I wouldn't get a straight answer.

I was right. In fact, he didn't even bother answering. He ventured forward into the trees, instead. I clenched my fists as I followed, wondering if it would be truly awful of me to hex him in the back and then Disapparate away.

'They won't attempt anything until nightfall,' he murmured. 'Augurey's are nocturnal—'

'Funnily enough, I was aware of that,' I interceded pithily.

He ignored me. 'We can't know precisely where they shall strike. However, we can try and ward some of the nests—the type of person we're dealing with has no idea how to dismantle such spells.'

'We can't ward them _all_. How can we pick—'

'We think _logically_ , Granger; we put ourselves in their shoes. Imagine, if you will, and I'm sure it won't be difficult for you, that you are a dunderhead who has been tasked with poaching some Augurey eggs. Your number one concern is that you aren't caught… Therefore, where do you think the best place to carry out your deed might be?'

I scowled fiercely at his back. 'I assume the deeper into the forest, the less likely they'd be spotted.'

'Furthermore, they use brooms to scan the treetops for nests—'

'You seem to know an awful lot about it,' I muttered, before I could stop myself.

He came to halt and looked over his shoulder at me. 'Hmm… Something you want to get off your chest?' He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

I nearly rose to it; I nearly accused him there and then of all the fanciful scenarios I'd conjured up recently. 'Just would like to know your sources, that's all,' I managed to say instead.

'You'll know when you need to.'

I shook my head despairingly as he continued onwards, deciding, for the benefit of _my_ health, that I should remain silent for the time being. He was also silent (thank Merlin) until he stopped in his tracks, seemingly at random, but from the surveying glance he gave the trees around him, there was nothing random about it whatsoever.

'There are several Augurey nests in this vicinity,' he said in his usual quiet, indifferent tone that I could barely hear him. 'We mustn't fly too close—'

'You what?' I blurted out.

' _We mustn't fly too close_ ,' he reiterated, absurdly crisply, as if I had no grasp of the English language.

To my dismay, he produced two small objects from within his robes, and I just knew instinctively they would be enlarged and revealed to be broomsticks. I wasn't disappointed; soon, I held a battered old Cleansweep in my hand. A cursory inspection seemed to point to an infestation of woodworm at some point; how gallant of him.

'There's no need to approach the nests directly, just near enough to get a good aim. We shall use a spell of my own design.'

Here he proceeded to demonstrate a particular wand movement, coupled with a specific Latin phrase that I've been warned never ever to divulge.

Before I could say anything, he was on his broom. 'I'll do the far side; you stick to this part.'

And then he was up in the treetops and I was left standing there, perplexed and uneasy. He hadn't even explained what precisely his spell did. Would I really be warding the nests against danger? Or would I be bloody well marking them out for the poachers later that night?

Deciding to follow my instinct, I got on the broom and pushed up into the air. Flying has never been a particular pastime of mine, and it isn't a skill of mine, either. But I'm someone who does have trouble admitting weakness, and so there was a snowball's chance in hell of me admitting it in front of Severus 'Insufferable Know-it-all' Snape. For all he would know, I was a champion flyer.

I floated among the boughs slowly, careful not to get too close to the trunks, where I knew there could be Augurey's hiding. I've always found it very tempting to take a peek inside when you are at the home of some unsuspecting creature. Unsuspecting is the operative word, however, and I learnt the hard way the folly of curiosity in this situation. I once peered down into a gnome burrow and got punched in the nose for my trouble.

I aimed my wand from my vantage point and cast the spell to, I hoped, stave off any unwanted visitors. It was a simple action, really, but it left me brightened. I felt glad to be able to do something practical in this situation, instead of just sitting around staring at my maps and charts and getting nowhere. It occurred to me it was for this feeling and for this sense of being useful that I'd taken up my post at the Ministry in the first place.

But why do people often see the need to be helpful as contemptible? Why do they scorn it? Why did my colleagues look on me so negatively?

I carried on meandering through the air until I spotted another telltale knot-hole in a tree trunk that might indicate the presence of an Augurey. I inched forward to get a better perspective, and that's when I suddenly felt it. A spell. Magic emanating from the tree itself.

I twisted on my broom and looked for Snape. He was some distance away and I hesitated. It was all right when I was filled with annoyance, but otherwise, I was suddenly aware how awkward I felt having to refer to him by his surname. Wasn't as though he'd requested I call him anything else, however.

'Um, Snape?' I called out, bracing myself for a torrent of vitriol.

It wasn't vitriol, but the sigh he issued I managed to hear even as far away as I was.

While I waited for him to join me, I inched closer still to the tree. I could see there was very little chance of there being anything living in this tree. The bark was crumbling and its leaves, what few it had, were drooping. There was twigs and grass and other material visible in the knot-hole, signs of a nest, but they were blackened; charred and dead.

It was a stupid thing for me to do. In hindsight, certainly. Although, at the time, I think I could be forgiven for making such a mistake. I reached out an investigative hand to touch the tree bark.

I flinched as a strident command sounded from my companion. 'Don't touch it!' he hissed.

It was the flinch that did it. My fingers grazed the bark and within a split second, a stinging sensation travelled from my fingers right through my body. My eyes fluttered closed and I felt myself list to one side like a wilted flower. Before I passed out completely, and before I plummeted to the forest floor, Severus Snape said crossly:

'Oh, for fuck's sake, Granger.'

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading : )


	8. Eight

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Eight**

Merging back into consciousness seemed a rather slow process. For a precarious time, I thought the darkness wouldn't clear and I'd be stuck; lying there motionless in some sort of limbo forever. But that I even contemplated this pointed towards me regaining my faculties. Eventually, my limbs started to tingle, my ears rang loudly, and I seemed to be returning back to life. I fluttered my eyelids open and experimentally moved my head from side to side, unable to stifle a soft whimper.

I soon established I was lying on my living room settee. Clearly, Snape hadn't decided to leave me out on the forest floor, open to the elements.

With regard to the man himself, I was aware of a faint rustling sound and I blearily hoisted myself up into a sitting position. My head throbbed with the movement and my vision was out of focus for a few moments. In time, I managed to ascertain he was sitting at my kitchen table, quill in hand, scribbling over something. Even in my compromised state, I hoped for his sake he wasn't scribbling over _my_ work. Had I been sure I could stand without my legs giving way, I would have launched myself over to him.

He glanced up at the sound of my stirring, but I was more interested in my clock that sat on the wall behind him.

'Eleven thirty?' I stammered in confusion. 'What—Is it _Monday_?'

'Indeed,' he grumbled. 'Milking it, were we, Granger?'

I collapsed back down with a sigh, wishing for unconsciousness to return. I put a hand over my face and counted to ten in my head. The whole bloody night had come and gone since that incident in the forest. What on earth had happened to me?

I heard, rather than saw, him stand and take the armchair opposite me. I clenched my jaw at the way he seemed to have made himself at home. How long had he been there, I wondered; all the while as I was dead to the world? Wasn't sure I liked the sound of that. I had visions of him snooping around my possessions again.

'What happened to me?' I asked, not bothering to remove my hand or open my eyes.

'You were merely jinxed,' he stated blandly, and I loved the use of "merely". 'I've seen it once or twice before, and as far as I can tell, it's used by poachers who want to capture Augurey's and other birds _alive_. They land on the afflicted tree and the spell knocks them out cold. Far more efficient than having to aim your wand at a bird in flight.'

I grimaced to myself. 'That's horrible.'

'I don't think it's a favoured _modus_ _operandi_ ,' he continued, ever the detached observer (supposedly). 'Too noticeable for Muggles; and by extension, potentially, the Ministry.'

I wasn't convinced with this analysis. Noticeable, was it? _He_ bloody well hadn't noticed it.

Or…Actually, he might have, I realised uneasily.

'What did you do afterwards?'

'After dumping you back here—'

I nearly snorted.

'—I returned to our task. I've since been back to examine signs they turned up last night, but I found none. Either, they were successfully deterred, or they went elsewhere, perhaps.'

I said nothing. Is it terrible the first thought that entered my head was how convenient it all was? The one jinxed tree being amongst the area he'd instructed me to work on? How convenient was it that I lay unconscious and was unable to see the effects of our work? I frowned to myself, thinking this whole situation was only getting worse and I still didn't know where I was, or where _he_ was, in all this.

I didn't enjoy thinking in this manner. As much as he irritated me, I only wished he would be frank with me so I could forget, or confirm, my doubts.

There was the sound of a newspaper being opened and he spoke again. 'Some bloody do-gooder has written to the _Prophet_.'

The contempt in his voice made me turn my head into the cushions and smile. 'There are some people who care,' I muttered.

I was only surprised he hadn't deduced _my_ involvement; perhaps he wasn't as omniscient as he liked to make out.

He snorted scornfully. I wasn't surprised. I knew whatever his motives were for pursuing this matter, they weren't because he cared, in the sentimental way I did, about the animals.

'Now you're back in the land of the living, I'm off.'

I stirred sharply at his words and let out a noise of protest. 'What do we do next?' I asked, heaving myself into a sitting position.

'I haven't decided.'

I scoffed, uncaring if he heard me. Why did he have to decide everything? 'And what if I have an idea? Some information? How am I to contact you?'

I hardly knew where he lived under normal circumstances, let alone where he might lurk about whilst trying to maintain a charade. I pushed my hair out of my face, for the first time considering I might look a wreck, and peered up at him with narrowed eyes.

'I will contact you,' he stated, and then he was gone.

I simply sat there, dumbly, for some time afterwards, completely unable to comprehend, and completely resenting, his prickly, high-handed demeanour. I rose unsteadily to my feet, still feeling rather unlike myself, and obtained a glass of water. Partially refreshed, I went to my kitchen table to see what it was he had been writing.

It was with no small amount of horror that I took in the numerous spidery scribbles cluttering up my margins and footers; there were corrections and crossings outs and…

'Oh my _God_!' I cried out in aggravation.

The bastard had had the gall to _mark_ my work. Out of everything he'd said and done recently, it was _this_ I considered to be the final straw.

He'd written _Troll_ at the end of it.

As I've said previously, I'm usually up for a laugh, but I didn't find this funny at all. Not one bloody bit. In fact, it was a good hour or so before I could do anything else but fume.

When I was able to think clearly again, I wrote a quick note to the Weasleys—to apologise further for my abrupt departure the day before. I simply told them I'd had some work to attend to. They wouldn't have batted an eyelid at that—wasn't the first time I'd disappeared from some social gathering to test a sudden theory or write down a new idea.

Some hours later, when I felt I'd regained my equilibrium sufficiently, I also returned to the scene of the crime—the forest in Cheshire. I wanted to see it for myself. I wanted to examine that tree for myself. It would be futile, I knew; Snape, so he said, had been back here. Any (self-incriminating?) evidence he would have discovered and, possibly, hidden from me.

I arrived at the same clearing he'd brought me to, and I proceeded walk slowly around the base of the trees, examining the ground closely for disturbance. I probably would have looked ridiculous to any passer-by, but, fortunately, there was no one around to observe my antics.

All I found was leaves. I kicked at them irritably, feeling this was my perpetual problem—always being two steps behind; the last to be in the know.

Finally, I cautiously approached the stricken tree, which had jinxed me so thoroughly the evening before. This time, as I stood close to the trunk, I felt no essence of magic. It's possible this was because it was simply less noticeable to me a second time around. However, and though I was reluctant (of course) to touch it, I rather thought the jinx had been eliminated. The likeliest candidate to have done this was, clearly, Severus Snape. And the most logical reason for him to have done this was to ensure no one else ended up in the predicament I did.

Good, responsible behaviour.

Yet… and I felt awful for thinking it again, it just seemed so very convenient and… _coincidental_.

Of all the forests in the country, of all the areas _within_ a forest, he'd brought me to _this_ spot, where there just happened to be a trap waiting for me to fall into. My doubts about this man and the fancies that he was playing a double-handed game always seemed to run wild when I was left alone to brood. It was only when I was with him that my desire to believe in him appeared to supersede anything else. And at that point, I had to wonder, uncomfortably, whether this might say more about his cunning than it did about my instincts.

I suppose a lot of my trouble stems from the fact I have a tendency to over-think matters. I think and I think and I think, and often, I just don't get anywhere. Something obvious may be staring me in the face, but I have to complicate things by reasoning out too many options, too many possibilities, and I just can't proceed. And there's not much I hate more than indecision.

I couldn't wait for Snape, I decided. I couldn't wait around indefinitely on his say-so. I was due back to work in the Ministry soon; I needed to make some headway before the majority of my time would be spent dealing with all that headache inducing rubbish there. The first thing I wanted was to see Cresswell again. Out of everyone, he had the most inflammatory accusations to make and I needed to know what substance he could provide them.

And as for danger… Well, Snape had done a good job of mitigating it so far, hadn't he? I'd take the risk—the risk, pointedly, only Snape had identified.

There was nothing else for me to decide. I Apparated to Snowdonia once more and knocked briskly on the door of one George Cresswell. I tried to ignore my discomfort as I considered whether Snape would somehow, in his apparent infinite wisdom, know that I had come here once more.

I knocked on the door again, but there was no answer. I bit my lip and frowned at my luck, concerned that if I had to return to try again at a later time, I might very well have talked myself out of it by then. There was nothing else I could do, however, and I moved back down the steps, preparing to Apparate home. I hadn't reached the bottom, however, when I heard a muffled noise sound from within the house.

I launched myself back up the steps and called through the door. 'Mr Cresswell? Please may we talk? It's important…'

There was nothing for a moment and I knocked again, straining to hear of any sound from within. In time, the lock clicked gently. The handle moved and the door opened partially.

'Go away,' said a voice.

'Mr Cresswell,' I urged, trying to get a glimpse of him, but there was only his hand to see, holding the door. 'I just need to ask you about… Well, to talk to you about—'

'I've nothing to say.'

'I don't believe that. Please—'

Suddenly, the door was opened further and his face came into view. I shrank back at what I saw.

'This is what happens when I _talk_ ,' he spat.

There was angry bruising all around his left eye and cheekbone.

'What happened?'

'I'm not to talk to you; not unless I want another… visit.'

'Visit?' I queried urgently. 'From whom?'

He was a while answering. ' _Who do you think_?' he hissed.

Every part of me went cold, because I knew precisely to whom he was referring. 'Snape's in Norway; everyone knows that,' I stated, as boldly as I could.

The expression of the old man twisted bitterly with resentment. 'Not last night he wasn't.'

Following that, the door was shut firmly in my face, and I was left standing there full of complete and utter disbelief. So much so, that I had to ask myself if this was all really happening. On top of everything else, I was now being told that Severus Snape was going around threatening people for their silence.

I had to think hard whether I could believe he would do such a thing, but the inescapable conclusion I reached was that I simply didn't know the man to determine either way. His whole personality, his motives, his drive, were as clear as mud to me.

The most troubling part of this new development was that, regardless of the truth of Cresswell's allegation, he seemed confident Snape wasn't in Norway. How did he know this?

 _I_ _knew_ Snape wasn't in Norway, and I also knew I had no idea what he might have done, or where he might have gone, whilst I was supine across my settee all night.

I couldn't see it… I didn't _want_ to see it. Snape attacking an old man physically… It just didn't seem his style. Yet, I had to wonder if that, in itself, was the whole point.

My instincts pointed at one thing, but the facts, such as they were, pointed to another. But it was something I couldn't sit on. I couldn't bide my time regarding this. Either Snape really was up to his eyes in skulduggery, or someone, for reasons unknown to me, wanted me to believe he was. I needed to resolve this, as far as I could, soon.

I Apparated home hoping, ironically enough, that I would find the man had broken into my home again. However, he hadn't.

How was I supposed to get in touch with him, when he refused to give me any inkling of his whereabouts? I thought hard, but for all that, coming up with only a couple of options. The first was formed on the recollection of a vague mention Harry had once made, a few years previously, regarding our former nemesis.

To speak to Harry, I would have to wait until the evening, when I knew he would be home from work, and that wasn't ideal on its own. The other option I had involved sending a note to his office at the Society. My reasoning was that, some way or another, he would likely be keeping up with the post he received there. This was hardly ideal, either; but in the short-term, the best I had.

I certainly had nothing to lose in sending a note, so I sent my owl off as soon as possible.

I still travelled via the Floo to Grimmauld Place, later that day. I cornered Harry—shut us in the library, away from the children, and knowing it would be a long shot, asked him plainly if he knew where Snape lived.

'Snape?' Harry echoed with confusion. 'What on earth do you want to know about him for?'

'Oh, you know, I just need to contact him regarding the work I'm doing.'

Harry nodded suspiciously. 'Isn't he, ah, away, though? That's what I read in the _Prophet_.'

'Well, yes—'

'Who knows how long your letter may go unopened, then? You'd be better off going to his place of work and asking for a forwarding address.'

He looked at me as if I were completely dim, and I say with no affectedness that this rarely ever happens.

Wasn't his fault really. I wasn't prepared to go into the details. I don't like to say Harry had become rather institutionalised over the years, but he took his responsibilities as an Auror seriously, and he flourished because of it. Had he heard even some of what had been going on, he would have had me in the Ministry making a witness statement immediately.

I was disappointed I hadn't got anywhere. I think, secretly, I would have loved turning up on Snape's doorstep and seeing his reaction (I'm not vain enough to think I could break _his_ wards and enter unannounced). I didn't want to push Harry any further, though. He did know where Snape lived, at that time, but I had a strong feeling he wouldn't have told me, probably out of consideration for Snape himself. And that's another story, really.

The point was, I personally didn't want to go anywhere near the Most Extraordinary Bloody Society for Potioneers. I wasn't sure there was anyone there whose word I could rely upon; even kind old Albert I was beginning to doubt.

This was why I had to reach some sort of consensus before proceeding; there had to be _someone_ I could trust, and despite everything, I wanted to believe it could be Snape; even if he was, and remains, a grumpy old git. As I think back, maybe even, curiously, because of it…

So, I returned home and I waited.

I waited and I waited.

And waited.

I dozed off when it got late, feeling my luck wasn't to be in that day, for he wouldn't turn up at some unconscionable hour, I thought.

Why was I always wrong?

It was well after midnight when I was jolted from my sleeping by a noise. I sat up, suddenly alert, and heard it again—it was a knocking on the door. A short, irritated rap, and I knew exactly to whom it belonged. I was only grateful he'd bothered this time with such an apparently disposable convention as knocking on the door for entry. Was a bit surprised not to wake up and find him sitting there, glass of wine in hand, and looking at me as if to say, 'What kept you?'

I rushed over to the door and wrenched it open. I barely had time to register his dark figure before he'd glided over the threshold and took himself straight into the living room. With a sharp sigh, I closed the door and braced myself.

He didn't apologise for the late hour, and I hadn't expected one. It seems, slowly, I was learning.

He stood in the middle of the room, pulling the scarf around his neck loose. I couldn't help it; my eyes surreptitiously lowered to his hands. Ridiculous as it sounds, I was looking to find some bruising of the knuckles perhaps; signs of an altercation reminiscent of the one Cresswell described.

Snape however, much to my consternation, was wearing gloves.

Was I worried for myself, then? Did I consider the only danger facing me, possibly, was this man who I'd brought into my home and shut myself in with? Would he threaten me for _my_ silence?

No; I wasn't afraid. I should never have even contemplated what I was about to do, had I been afraid of him.

'You summoned me?' he stated with a sneer.

Oddly enough, I was suddenly overcome with a sense of self-assurance. Yes, I had _summoned_ him, and yes, he'd turned up. Maybe, even, I could say I had the luxury of exercising the upper hand. I'd confront him; prove to him I was no mere girl—not his student to intimidate any longer. One (small) point to me, finally.

Slightly exhilarated, I moved into the room and leaned against the back of the settee, crossing my arms nonchalantly. 'I wished to inform you of a rather, ah, interesting conversation I had today,' I began, relishing the opportunity to adopt the drawn out, roundabout manner of speaking he often employed (usually to the detriment of my mental health). 'Most… curious it was.'

I even raised my eyebrow at him for good measure.

What he said, however, was simply: 'Get on with it, Granger. Think I've got all bloody night, do you?'

I grimaced. Of course, I should have known he'd have no qualms about being blunt with me. Thwarted, I resolved right there the next time he started doing my head in, I would just say: 'Get to the point, Snape. Think I've got all bloody night, do you?'

'Where did you go after you brought me back last night?'

A faint frown appeared across his face. ' _Why_?'

'Was it only the forest you returned to?' I questioned briskly.

Oh my, I could tell I was pushing my luck. His eyes were beginning to shine with ice-cold fury. Perversely, I think I rather enjoyed being responsible for it.

'I'm not answerable to _you_ ,' he hissed contemptuously.

I was unmoved. 'Maybe you'd rather answer to the Aurors, then?'

He took a step forward and I rejoiced inwardly as I held my ground without the slightest hint of a flinch.

'Explain yourself… _now_ , Granger.'

Admittedly, that soft growl of his was, slightly… off-putting.

'Oh, well, it's just a little bird tells me you popped over the border last night. Told me you visited Mr George Cresswell and… attacked him.'

It was a moment I shall always remember with unerring accuracy. The perpetually pale complexion of my former professor paled further still and there was an unquestionable flicker within his eyes.

And that flicker, I'd never seen before, but I knew what it was—it was uncertainty.

In hindsight, I didn't much care what he would say in his defence. It, perhaps, doesn't reflect well upon me, but all I felt was triumph over wrong-footing him. It was a moment to enjoy, and I won't pretend it was otherwise.

I had to make the most of the chances I had. Because I doubted anyone could cow Severus Snape for long.

Or, more pertinently, even, to get away with it.

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AN: Thanks for the reviews! Always appreciated : )


	9. Nine

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Nine**

If I've learnt anything about Severus Snape, it's that he can be a spoilsport.

My moment, _my_ moment of triumph, was woefully short-lived. I told him Cresswell had accused him of violence—that he'd attacked him. And the brief, gratifying sight of his surprise faded almost immediately as he… _laughed_. Laughed in my face.

He seemed to have considered me for a moment, before he sat down, ran a hand over his face, and started chuckling quietly to himself.

Naturally, I was thrown. I hardly knew what to do with myself while he indulged in this bout of amusement. I folded my arms around myself and perched on the edge of the sofa, a bit unsettled.

'What's funny?' I asked reluctantly.

Typically, he could not answer my question straightforwardly; in fact, he entirely ignored it.

'Tell me,' he said. 'Do you think I attacked him?'

I wasn't pleased to be put on the spot like this. Especially as I wasn't certain of my own mind. Instead, I sought to deflect the point. 'I think, perhaps, the question is how does he know you aren't in Norway?'

His eyes narrowed. 'Perhaps he's bluffing.'

I decided to be forthright, regardless of the consequences. 'I don't think he is.'

He nodded, still looking vaguely amused. 'So, then, Miss Granger, by my reckoning there is only one other option.'

I found myself sitting upright. 'You went to see Cresswell?' I tensed in anticipation for his answer, wondering if I'd mistaken his behaviour after all. Wondering if my suspicions about him would prove founded.

'I did.'

I froze. For a number of reasons, I felt my stomach sink at his words. For one, the possibility he had struck Cresswell was now increasingly credible. For another, it was clear he had an entire agenda that was invisible to me.

'I see,' I said tightly, feeling unaccountably slighted.

'What's wrong with old George, then? Did I split his lip? Or was it an old-fashioned shiner?'

'A shiner,' I confirmed distastefully, trying to judge from his expression whether he was feigning his lack of knowledge or not. Why I bothered, I don't know. As if I could ever make head or tail of his demeanour.

While I deliberated, he frowned to himself and looked at his hands. Then he started plucking off his gloves and flexing his freed fingers, showing them to me. They were unblemished. The corner of his mouth lifted. 'Suppose I could have healed any bruising, mind.'

What an incorrigible man! He was obviously enjoying teasing me; finding amusement in fuelling my confusion. And oddly, the one thing that sprang to my mind at this time, was the realisation he didn't care about my opinion of him. He clearly couldn't give a damn whether I thought he was guilty of assaulting an old man or not. Of course, I understood there was no reason my opinion should matter to him, but he was just another in a long line of people who seemed to find it easy to ignore me. Perhaps I'm too sensitive, but somewhere inside me, I was dismayed.

And that, in turn, made me indignant.

' _Look_ ,' I burst out irritably before I could temper myself. 'I don't know what your game is, but I'm beginning to think I don't want to know, actually.'

His eyebrows raised only a fraction.

'I don't think you really need my assistance, so…' I shrugged and got to my feet, hoping he would take the action for the dismissal it was.

But, of course, he didn't. I went to the sink to begin piling dishes into it, and I heard him stand. When he spoke, he was not headed for the door, he was directly behind me. How stupid of me to even believe my feelings should matter.

And what he said next nearly made me throw a plate at his head.

'This is bad form… Auntie Hermit, indeed.'

Needless to say, I didn't appreciate this little poke one iota. But after counting silently to five, I was able to concentrate more on the fact he seemed at pains to continue our pathetic attempt at co-operation. When I faced him, there was still something self-satisfied in his expression that elicited within me nothing positive at all. In fact, I rather thought if he didn't watch it, Cresswell wouldn't be the only one with a black eye. It was a nice fantasy at the time, and one, unfortunately, I've had cause to revisit several times in years since.

'Tell me why you went to Cresswell, or I go to the Ministry tomorrow and tell them all I know.'

His bottom lip curled briefly in expression of consideration. He was not intimidated, I felt; if anything he was only amused again, much to my chagrin. He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and said:

'Sit.'

I watched, dumb, as he pulled out another chair and put it next to the one I'd been ordered to occupy. He sat and tugged my map closer, and it was only when he took my quill from the inkwell and started scrawling a series of crosses at different locations on the map that I jerked into life. Indignant, I rushed to sit down.

'Ah, what _are_ you doing?' I asked irritably, fighting a strong urge to wrench my map away and protect it from his swift lashings.

He sat back as if to admire to his handiwork and said: 'Any tea going?'

' _No_.'

There was a murmured noise of disapproval as he produced a liquorice wand and began unwrapping it. I nearly burst with frustration while he chewed thoughtfully. I was inches away from telling him that I didn't have all bloody night, when he finally, _finally_ , started speaking with a sense of purpose.

'See here,' he said. 'These markings denote where poachers have targeted in the last few months.' He consulted his pocketbook and pointed to each cross on the map in succession, reading off a list of dates and his own recorded observations at that particular time.

And while, undeniably, I was surprised and intrigued he was finally revealing some of his knowledge, I was also… oddly distracted. Indeed, I'm quite sure I missed half of what he said. It's with reluctance I say this, but I think I was momentarily flustered. He was awfully near, there was the smell of liquorice (I don't even like liquorice), and my eyes were directed at the length of his arm, which rested on the table, and to his hand, which was…

It was a foolish, fuzzy moment, and I blinked back into sanity, folding my arms tightly around myself.

'Er, so, ah, what exactly does this have to do with Cresswell?' I asked, leaning away slightly.

'How was I to know where they'd strike?' he posed enigmatically.

I scowled. 'Here's an idea; why don't you just tell me?'

I'd like to say it was the late hour that disposed me to being brusque, but I'd be lying. It was all him. I simply couldn't be arsed with his self-satisfied demeanour any longer.

'Cresswell,' he began, speaking in possibly the most condescending tone he could find, 'is _involved_. He informs me where the next hit shall be. Do you understand now? Or should I write it down for you?'

Unfortunately, I didn't actually understand fully. I would have died before admitting it though. So, I chose to ask what I thought was a respectably pertinent question instead. 'Why does he say you attacked him?'

Naturally, to him it wasn't a pertinent question. He shook his head, chuckling at me, and I felt my cheeks heat up a little. _Again_.

'Tell me, were you born yesterday, Granger?'

I closed my eyes. ' _No_.'

'Really? You're doing a good job of convincing me otherwise. Cresswell is giving me the information _against his will_.'

He paused then, and, it seemed, was waiting for a reaction. When I stated, a little tiredly, 'You're blackmailing him,' I think I probably gave him what he expected. He's made no secret of the fact I'm predictably transparent.

There was a muted huff of disapproval. 'That's such a disagreeable word, isn't it? Let us put it in simpler terms: Cresswell knows I have information on him that could land him in Azkaban, therefore, he… offered to help me. Of course, he's very reluctant, hence his little attempts to get me into trouble. Unfortunately for poor old George, he chose to use _you_ in order to double-cross me.'

I fought not to flinch when he suddenly reached and patted my shoulder. 'And you,' he continued, 'are on my side, aren't you, Miss Granger?'

I was a bit uncomfortable with his subsequent piercing look and I think I may have fidgeted with some scrolls of parchment, so that I didn't have to make eye contact with him. Because I wasn't entirely sure I was on his side. I certainly didn't think we shared the same purpose in mind — the same principles driving us onwards.

'Indeed,' he murmured. 'This is could be very advantageous. We must ensure Cresswell doesn't find out about our… alliance.'

Uncomfortably, the way he said "alliance" I found to be almost salacious.

'If Cresswell is involved, he should be reported to the Ministry and investigated.' I sat up and folded my arms again, wanting to regain some stronghold in this discussion. 'In fact, this mess might have been resolved far sooner if you had done precisely that.'

Far from being antagonised by my accusation, he had the gall to look smug. 'Bureaucracy has narrowed your vision, Granger. It is a terrible thing; you have my apologies.'

My jaw dropped open.

Craftily, however, he cut in before I could tell him to piss right off. 'You've seen Creswell — he's well past it. They only want him for his connections on the continent. You don't seriously think he knows who is at the top of the chain, do you? Because there _is_ someone, Granger, out there who is pulling all the strings, funding these operations, managing these operations, and reaping the spoils afterwards. That is the person we are searching for; not the halfwits like Cresswell.'

What was the point in trying to compete with him anymore? I conceded his point. 'You've no idea who this person is?'

'No,' he replied after a moment.

At the time, I believed him. I chose to ignore what I thought was a rather cryptic turn to his countenance. Probably, I was relieved he'd provided an answer for the Cresswell issue, and I was ready to believe it, and him, to retain faith in my own judgement.

'What's next, then?'

'You are going to visit the Society.'

At the mention of the Most Extraordinary Society for Potioneers, I was reminded of my previous visits there, and I recalled my futile quest to find the book Snape and Ridley had once written about Augureys, which had also included the enquiry to the offices of the _Practical Potioneer_ journal. I'd made no mention to Snape of this little phenomenon I'd uncovered, and I wondered whether he had any inclination that Cresswell mightn't be the only person trying to double-cross him.

I rather hoped he didn't. I found myself determined to prove he wasn't as omniscient as he liked to imagine. Yes, I resolved right there I was going to prove it, if it was the last thing I ever did.

So, when morning came, and armed with instructions, I set off to Edinburgh. The foyer was empty again, when I went in, so I calmly went to wait by the desk. Despite my purpose in being there, according to Snape, I was to make my presence known.

As I waited for Albert to appear, I unfolded a copy of the _Prophet_ that sat on the desk. Immediately, I flicked to the letters' page, and lo, there was a response to my appeal. However, it wasn't the response I'd entirely hoped for. Indeed, my cheeks flamed a little as I read.

' _These people who claim to care for the creatures in this country. What do they actually do about it, other than preach from the safety of their armchairs?'_

There was no name supplied, but I was prepared to bet my last galleon Severus Snape was responsible. I was half debating reducing the paper to cinders, when Albert peered around the door.

'Oh, Miss Granger! How lovely to see you, again.'

'Good morning, Albert,' I replied with a smile. 'I was wondering if it'd be all right to use the library, again?'

'Certainly, my dear; you know where it is.'

'Thank you.' I turned to marble staircase, but paused. 'Oh, Professor Snape is still in Norway, isn't he?'

A frown appeared on the old man's face. 'Indeed, he is.'

I nodded. 'Right; thanks again.'

Snape had decided I was to make as much noise as possible regarding my supposed desire to see him. The logic being that with Cresswell's allegation in mind, I'd ordinarily have been crusading around trying to prove or disprove the matter. He seemed to feel it important the facts of our co-operation were kept hidden for the time being. What machinations formed this strategy, I don't think I really wanted to contemplate.

I went up the stairs and followed the passageway around to Snape's office. My real purpose wasn't to visit the library. I was to retrieve some documents for Snape from his office, without being spotted by anyone. It was no difficult task; the place sounded almost eerily quiet, and I was confident about sneaking in and out.

The door, I'd been assured would be open, and it was. I crossed over to the bookshelves and immediately picked out the small, intricately carved wooden box I was to retrieve. Naturally, I tried to open it, but the lid wouldn't budge.

Stuffing it into my robes, I was about to flee, when my attention was diverted. This was his office. This, perhaps, was my one chance to learn a little more about whom I was dealing with. The man, who, I wasn't sure whether to trust or not. Suddenly I was standing at his desk, contemplating opening the drawers, and just as quickly, I scolded myself and turned away.

Then I was faced with the bookshelves and, like a magnet, I was drawn to an inspection of them, only to shout at myself again. I had to leave before I was spotted; it was no time to be rifling through someone else's belongings. And really, I wondered, would he have sent me here at all had he anything to hide?

No, seemed the obvious answer.

I even looked in the fireplace where I could see the remnants of some paper being burned. I picked up a few charred scraps, but there was nothing of any note. I dropped them back into the grate.

I'd like to say that was the end of it. But it wasn't. It was only by chance that I happened to look down and see the small piece of parchment peeking out from underneath the bookcase. Without having to think about it, I bent down and pulled what turned out to be several sheets of parchment, bound together.

My mouth opened in surprised when I realised what I held. I had before me, in black, handwritten script, stamped as the property of the ' _Practical_ _Potioneer'_ the original draft of Snape and Ridley's treatise on the distribution of Augureys. Discomfited by this discovery, I hurriedly stuffed it into my robes, with not a thought for the consequences. I rushed over to the door and listened for any sound. Satisfied I could escape unnoticed, I took a breath and pushed the door open.

The hallway was empty. Head down, I scurried forwards, only wanting to get out of the building as quickly as possible. As it turned out, it wasn't to be very quick for me. For when I reached the stairs to the foyer, Theobald Ridley was ascending them.

'Miss Granger,' he greeted coldly.

Painfully aware of what I had in my robes, I sought to keep my expression clear. 'Mr Ridley,' I said evenly.

I half-hoped he would continue on his way, and it seemed he was prepared to do just that, except, on surveying his blank features and flinty eyes, I found myself speaking further. 'Is Mr Snape still in Norway?'

'Yes,' he answered irritably.

'Really?' I injected just the right amount of doubt for him to really look at me with interest.

'Something to say, Miss Granger?'

I shrugged my shoulders lightly. 'I may have heard a rumour to the contrary…'

There was an odd flicker in his face and I was gratified to see it. 'Severus is a law unto himself,' he observed. 'Going to catch up with him one day, if he isn't careful.'

And with that cryptic remark, he walked off.

I wondered whether I'd done the right thing in being so deliberately suggestive. But if I had doubts as to Snape's trustworthiness, I had none whatsoever over Ridley's. It appeared perfectly obvious Ridley didn't hold Snape in any particular regard, and so, maybe, he might also like to see Snape in a spot of trouble.

There was that manuscript I'd found in Snape's office, but my first inclination this time was that it had been put there by someone else. It seemed too easy, too stupid, for Snape to have put it there himself.

The man himself was waiting for me when I returned home. Despite being preoccupied, I didn't forget to feel umbrage at the fact he was still Apparating into my house whenever he felt like it.

'Well?' he asked expectantly.

'Well, what?' I answered tightly, taking out his wooden box and placing it before him.

'Did anyone see you?'

'Not in your office. I saw Albert, and spoke to Ridley, though...'

I watched his expression carefully, but there was nothing remarkable at my mentioning of his deputy.

'Theo, eh?' he said, enlarging the box and taking out a little key to unlock it. 'Good… Did he have anything to say for himself?'

I barely heard him. I was transfixed by the opening of the box and the contents held within. I closed my eyes and counted to ten.

'You sent me to retrieve your… liquorice wands?' I questioned through clenched teeth.

'They don't have any in Norway.'

'I thought I was picking up something important! Something to aid our investigation!' I looked at him wildly.

He shrugged. 'Rule of thumb, Granger; never make assumptions.'

Right there; _right_ there, I lost the will to live.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading. Here's where the story was originally left unfinished... Updates now may not be as regular as not all future chapters are complete yet : )


	10. Ten

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Ten**

I found _Uncovering the Secrets of Augureys and Other Creatures_ to be a compelling read. After the way my last meeting with Snape had gone, however, it had been some hours before I could even look at his name on the cover without fuming, let alone read his work.

Uneasily, I noted that he and Ridley had carried out a comprehensive survey of Augurey habitats, some five years ago. It rather provided a neat little guide to spotting the elusive Augurey around the British Isles. Naturally, there was also a whole exposition on the use of Augurey feathers within potion-making.

I was disappointed not be more inspired once I'd finished reading. Finally getting my hands on the document had not really shed any further light on the matter. I had confirmation Snape and Ridley were both experts on the Augurey — nothing new there. Anyone could have copy of this journal article and be using it for nefarious ends.

The only unusual aspect, of course, was that I should have found the master copy from the _Practical Potioneer_ stuffed under a bookcase in Snape's office. And was it carelessly placed? Or strategically placed?

I resolved to sit on it for the time being. Snape's excruciating behaviour meant I could not confront him on the matter — not yet. My dealings with him at that time were still so very much focused on an imagined points-scoring battle. And in my own mind, I was far behind in that battle.

There was another matter to occupy my mind, too. It was time for me to return to work at the Ministry.

There is no point denying that my job had become to be my focus during that period of my life. But faced with returning after only a week away, after all that had gone on, there was a worrying lack of enthusiasm on my part. To be sure, I _wanted_ to work — I wanted the occupation. I was beginning to see, however, that I wanted it far less at the Ministry.

I expected the lack of enthusiasm ran both ways. I had a feeling the only reason they did not try and conjure an excuse to relieve me of my post was that they had begun to perceive me as a threat. Especially since the House Elf reform. To a certain extent, maybe they thought they would be better placed to keep an eye on me. Or perhaps it was my notoriety in the public consciousness that prevented them from getting rid. No one wanted to be the person who sacked one of the saviours of the Wizarding World, I supposed.

I'd always imagined finding myself in an occupation where I'd be valued and respected. To be in my late twenties and to have achieved only indifference at worst and barely disguised tolerance at best was a cause for great reflection. I had to wonder what it was about me that engendered such feeling.

I thought the fault must have lain with me, for I couldn't deny that I hadn't experienced this type of thing in the past. How many times had I been criticised by my peers as a child? As a teenager? Neither was it limited to my peers.

And for what? For being enthusiastic? For being intelligent? For being opinionated?

I'd tempered my eagerness and, perhaps, my inclination towards bossiness, as I'd aged. Or so I'd thought.

And yet… I was still the insufferable know-it-all.

I'm sure neither Snape nor I could have known how precipitously, and how succinctly, he had summed up my future in deeming me an insufferable know-it-all that day, in the classroom, many moons ago.

I'd never shake it off, as hard as I tried. Eventually, I learned how to embrace it and even to rise above it, but it wasn't always easy.

It came to pass that I walked back into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to a smattering of greetings and pleasantries. I was summarily called into the manager's office whereupon I was told I was to be given a new workload. I was reminded to abandon _all_ efforts regarding the survey — it was a waste of time, I was told. A waste of time and resources.

I acquiesced with enough protestation that would not seem out of the ordinary, but I took the files back to my desk with good grace. This was all as Snape and I had anticipated and, indeed, had wanted. Admittedly, as I sat there, I rued not for the first time that Snape's machinations were not more transparent to me. But in any case, we'd resolved I should not reveal anything to the Ministry.

I sorted through my new tasks and smiled cynically. They were basic, rudimentary jobs that not even I could cause a fuss when executing. I'd expected as much, but part of me chafed at what could only be described as a demotion.

'Nice week off, Hermione?' It was one of my colleagues.

I looked up sharply. 'Oh, very good, thanks.'

'Do anything exciting?'

My mind went blank. 'Er, this and that.'

'Right…' she replied awkwardly. 'I thought we could go out to Essex to deal with that gnome infestation this afternoon?'

I nodded my agreement and when she'd departed I looked at my desk with a scowl. When _was_ the last time I did anything exciting, I thought? And yet to me, following the trail of the Augurey hunters _was_ my idea of excitement. They all thought I led the most humdrum of lives for a young woman. I glanced around the office and wondered what they would think it they knew the truth? What would my superiors think if they knew I was colluding with Severus Snape himself? Would their sycophancy then suddenly extend to me?

It was amusing to think on it. However, my initial ire with the powers-that-be had mellowed back into a more comfortable derision, and so one-upmanship on that score was not a priority, unlike my competition with Snape. The incident with the liquorice wands still smarted keenly (it _still_ does) and I longed to be able to revisit that frustration upon him. Tenfold, if possible.

Unbeknownst to me, matters would soon conspire to reach a turning point in my dealings with the man. I still cringe to think back on it. However, even with the benefit of hindsight, I'm sure there's no earthly way I could have dealt with it any differently.

It happened all by chance. I was rummaging through my desk drawer, looking for my work diary, and I paused at a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that I had roughly shoved in there only a few weeks ago. It was the edition that had initially broken the Augurey story.

I sighed and unfolded it. What a mess it all was, I thought. Disgruntled, I was about to Banish it to the bin when my blood suddenly ran cold. I read the name of the journalist under the headline story several times.

 _Gwynfor Brown._

I knew I'd seen that name only recently and it didn't take long for me to recall where. I'd seen it on a scrap of parchment that had been lying in the grate in Snape's office. My mind rushed back to the incident of the leaked story and I realised I never knew exactly who was responsible for it. No one had ever been identified.

I like to think I'm someone who doesn't ordinarily jump to conclusions on the flimsiest of evidence. In fact, I'm more disposed to over-thinking. This time, however, I felt jumping to the most obvious conclusion was warranted. The leak had never been identified. We'd been told it had been _someone_ in the department and these incidents were not unusual. Yet, it had been swept under the carpet. No single culprit had been identified and punished. Had the Ministry been simply bluffing to appease certain people, particularly Snape himself? And so, had they ever actually known from where the leak had sprung?

Then I recalled how Snape had already known of the issues referenced in the story. He'd been several steps in front of my research and I had seen the name Gwynfor Brown written in Snape's own hand. So, could _he_ have leaked the story? It all added up rather nicely, except that I didn't know why he should play such a game.

Or, could the name be written down for some other purpose?

My morning was effectively ruined from there. There was only one immediate recourse I could think of that might confirm or allay my fears. During my lunch break, I went to the offices of the _Daily Prophet_ and requested to see Brown himself. My luck was in; he agreed to see me and I found myself in a poky little office that was piled high with all manner of newspapers and scrolls and cabinets.

I fully anticipated that he would not reveal his source, but I hoped to glean _something_.

'My source,' he began equably, 'as I told the Ministry, was anonymous. I honestly don't know who it came from; I had many questions I should have liked to put to them, but I could not trace them.'

'What evidence did they provide to corroborate their story, if I may ask?' I paused. 'You had to be sure of its credence, I'm sure.'

He deliberated for a moment, before getting to his feet and retrieving a folder. He placed it on his desk and rifled through its contents. I itched to reach over and rifle through it myself. In time, he placed a packet of folded-up parchment onto the desk.

'There were several reasons to believe this story was credible — various pieces of evidence that bore out.'

He unfolded the parchments and I simply stared. I recognised them as extracts from a certain pocketbook I'd seen only recently. The handwriting was charmed, of course, but the layout was exactly the same. The content utterly familiar.

Now I was convinced Severus Snape had leaked the story to the _Prophet_. It was obvious. Quite possibly, incontrovertible.

I jumped from my chair as if hexed.

'Oh, wouldn't you like to —'

I shook my head briskly. 'No — no thank you. You've been very helpful; I'm grateful.'

My subsequent indignation was acute. I could have seized this tidbit of information and kept it as a card close to my chest, but I couldn't detach myself from the matter. Looking back, quite clearly this incident was the tip of a rather large iceberg and so, it is not unsurprising why I reacted the way I did. The fact I had hours for this anger to simmer and boil didn't help matters either, because of course, I still had no means of contacting the man other than to send a note to Edinburgh. That in turn only served to stoke the flames further.

One may imagine, then, that when I Apparated home from work and found him once again having let himself into my house, and having helped himself to a cup of tea, I could not have tempered myself. For all the galleons in Gringotts', I could not have forestalled my tirade.

'All right, Granger?' He didn't even bother to look at me — he was reading the _Practical Potioneer_.

' _You_ _bastard_ ,' I whispered icily.

This diverted his attention. He looked at me, but his expression was blank.

'How could you? _Why_ would you?' I spat. 'What have I ever done to you, hmm? You didn't even have the guts to tell me it was you!'.

He stood up then and seemed to fill the room, as only he could.

I flung my bag off my shoulder and ripped off my cloak. 'You don't intimidate me, Snape.' I glared at him scornfully. 'I know _you_ leaked the story to the _Prophet_!'

He had the temerity to give a look of long-suffering. 'And?' he questioned facetiously.

My stomach clenched with an emotion that ranged from anger to disbelief to a traitorous pang of personal hurt.

'And?' I repeated dully. ' _And_? And what about _me_? What about my work? What about my career, Snape? Do you know how hard I have worked, _for years_ , to get where I am now? Which, I might add, is barely fucking anywhere! Do you know how many brick walls I have banged my head against? How many doors have been slammed in my face by Ministry fucking troglodytes who just want to totter along with their blinkers on until their retirement beckons?'

I took a breath, but I wasn't done by a long shot.

'Do you know what I have had to put up with? The comments and the jibes, because, God forbid a young woman has ideas! But I persevered, I bore it with good grace – I played the game! And I thought I was getting somewhere, until _you_ shafted me and gave them the ammunition they needed to put me back in my box!'

To be fair to the man, during this torrent, he did not let his expression flicker once. Indeed, I don't think he even blinked.

At a pause, he did try to speak. 'Gra—'

But I cut across launching into my next rant.

'You've been using me, haven't you? You wanted my work to be swept under the carpet! You gave me all that crap about having me help you… I bet you're in it up to your neck, aren't you? You don't care about what happens out there, just as long as nothing sticks to _you_! I bet you've got it all planned out with them… Humour me for a time and then fob me off, is it?'

'Granger—'

'I am sick to death of men thinking they can walk all over me — _men_ who think they can do what they fuck they want!'

'Granger—'

'Well I've had enough!' I was alarmed to find I was starting to shake; my face was burning and I could feel the traitorous tingle of tears in my throat. 'I'll find out what's going on — I'll find out by myself! I don't need anyone else to'—

' _Hermione…'_

I broke off immediately with no little amount of surprise. I couldn't recall him ever uttering my name before, and the quality in the tone of his voice arrested me in a way I wasn't entirely comfortable with. The only other indication as to his being taken aback was a slight widening of the eyes as he watched for my next move. Black eyes, though, that I found to be warm, and it was oddly a blessing when my own vision blurred and I had to viciously swipe at the tears that threatened to fall. I used that movement to look away. I thought I must tell him to leave immediately. I was afraid of what he might say — afraid of how I might react if he chose to employ his infinite repertoire of cutting remarks.

But he said nothing. Instead, he touched my elbow and guided me to the kitchen table. It was only my feeling of being rather dazed that I did not shrug him off. I sat and he soon procured a steaming mug of tea which he placed in front of me.

I could not bring myself to look at him, but as the silence echoed loudly I forced a glance. He had his back to me and was looking through the window as if in some form of reverie. Perhaps he sensed my appraisal, because he turned suddenly and pulled out the chair opposite mine.

'Granger?'

Despite everything, I felt keenly a sense of disappointment that he did not address me in the way he had done only moments before. I hated myself for it.

'Are you recovered so that I might speak to you freely?'

I only nodded.

'I did leak the story to the _Daily Prophet_ , anonymously, of course.'

The blood in my veins bubbled immediately, but he raised a hand to forestall any protestations on my part.

'The leak was necessary — I could not afford to have the incompetency of the Ministry muddying the water in all of this.'

I moved to interrupt again, but he carried on swiftly.

'You said it yourself, Granger, "troglodytes", was it?' He allowed himself a small smirk. 'As we have seen, predictably, once the uproar was initiated there was no longer any will to continue the research any further. I'm not up to my neck in it, Granger, the _Ministry_ is.'

He glared at me to emphasise his point. At my silence, he stood and went to the window once more. He spoke again after a few moments and his voice was studiously blank — his expression hidden.

'We have been acquainted in some form of another for a number of years. Did we not already decide we desired the Ministry's retreat? _I_ enlisted your help — _I_ have not underestimated you.'

'You rubbished me to them.'

It was a moment before he spoke, returning to the table as he did so. 'You need not concern yourself with your colleagues, Granger. You will far surpass them in your own time, of that I have no doubt. But, you will not solve this problem you have identified from within… Bureaucracy is a large machine that shall not be ignored. We may force its hand, however, with the right leverage.'

I still said nothing. Inwardly, my thoughts raced to appreciate fully what he was saying.

'Yet,' he began softly. 'You do not trust me, I fancy.'

As a child I'd always been trusting of authority figures. How often had I even defended the man opposite me to Harry and Ron? I'd ultimately been borne out in the end but it hardly spoke well for my judgement considering what had happened in between. Now that I was older, more cynical, perhaps, I was less inclined to blindness. There were doubts I had had... After all, I'd just accused him of trying to use me to mask any nefariousness he might be involved in.

But… When faced with this plain statement, I decided that I did trust him. Why I decided this, I couldn't be sure at the time. There was something in him that I felt I could not ignore. Maybe it was a hang up from those Hogwarts days or maybe it was more intangible than that. Nevertheless, the crushing sense of humiliation that pressed at me with the echo of my rant meant I could not surrender graciously.

'You make it very difficult,' I replied, tightly. 'You tell me nothing, apart from what you deem necessary. I have no means of contacting you, yet you insist on turning up here announced. You don't even knock! I could have anyone in here...'

I trailed off because he was smiling — there was a very distinct lift at the corners of his mouth. I should have bristled, but, in actual fact, I failed to suppress a rueful quirk myself.

How tragic was it that he knew I had a nearly non-existent social life to speak of?

Not wanting to dwell, I stood to wash my mug at the sink. It was sparkling by the time I finished — I was at a loss what else to do, or, indeed, say. I half wished he would take his leave; I felt I needed some time to regroup. What he must have thought of me I dreaded to think… Unbalanced, maybe? Fragile? I could only be grateful he chose not to voice his thoughts aloud.

When the towel started squeaking against the mug because of my repetitive wiping, I was forced to return to the matter at hand. My discomfort was not lessened when I realised he'd been studiously observing my performance. There was a peculiar glint in his eyes — I think it meant he was amused.

'Well?' I asked, shrugging.

He frowned to himself and reached for his gloves on the table. 'The question is, Granger; can I trust you?'

'Yes,' I replied stoutly, without hesitation.

There was a short moment, after which he simply said, 'Very good.' He stood up then. 'There are matters I must attend to.'

Part of me breathed a sigh of relief he was leaving. I couldn't bring myself to ask why he had even been in my kitchen this night in the first place. All I wanted to do was get a wine bottle and then contemplate the sensibility of a self-administered _Obliviate_. But to my chagrin, he made no immediate move to the door.

I had not failed to notice he had borne my outburst with rather more good grace than I would ever have credited him. Yet, as I observed his delay, I could still see that peculiar glint was present and I held my breath for what might be a final parting prod.

'How did you find out I leaked the story to the _Prophet_?' he asked.

I blinked, marginally bemused. Under better circumstances, I would have relished this advantage I had, because I doubt he would have allowed himself to ask had I been more composed. Looking back, I'm only surprised he did not try and spin the story to make out he had always intended me to find out his leak to the _Prophet_.

'You need to clean out your fireplace more often,' I stated quietly.

He regarded me, then; the cogs in his mind no doubt efficiently joining the dots together. He nodded fractionally to himself and then there was a small concessionary shrug of his shoulders.

'What — no witty comment to make regarding your house-elf being tardy with the cleaning?'

I folded my arms and looked at him obstinately. Unfortunately, I got the feeling there _was_ a comment poised, but that he'd swallowed it. There was a look of faint innocence on his face that seemed to suggest it was so. Ironically, despite how often his manner had infuriated me, I found I was not entirely grateful when he tempered it, either. That was frustrating in and of itself.

'I will return tomorrow and apprise you of further details, which should allay some of your, ah, concerns,' he stated.

When he reached for his gloves, I felt a little of the tension within me alleviate. He put one glove on, but before he could encase his other hand, he suddenly held it out for me to take.

I looked at it in small surprise.

'Are you agreeable?'

I shook his hand and nodded dumbly. His grip was strong, but not intimidating. When he did not release my hand straightaway, but rather held on, I looked at him in surprise once more.

'Tell me, Granger; you do not consider _me_ a troglodyte, do you?'

I felt my bottom jaw slacken slightly. I made to try and speak, but to this day I do not know what I intended – no words would come. As it was, he must have read all he needed to know in my stumbling.

He released me and Disapparated. I can't be sure, but I think I heard a soft chuckle on his departure.

Troglodyte? Oh no, I certainly didn't consider him to be a troglodyte.

What I did consider him, however, I wasn't sure would be wise to contemplate.

* * *

AN: Thanks for the reviews! Happy you're enjoying this one!


	11. Eleven

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Eleven**

It came to pass that only a day later he returned. It was, of course, under the cover of darkness, but this time, his arrival was precipitated by a note telling me to expect him at seven o'clock. It still only gave me half an hour's grace, and still no recourse to object, but it was a concession, at least. It seemed to me I would have to learn to be grateful for small mercies where this man was concerned.

The events of the previous evening smarted in me a certain level of continued indignation, therefore, I bullishly endeavoured not to alter my plans to accommodate his whims. I had my dinner cooking and he could bloody well wait, I decided.

Unfortunately, this indignation did not preclude me from briefly checking my appearance in the mirror, and I wondered if I'd thrown my pride to the wayside. I scowled at myself in disgust and returned to the kitchen, whereupon I bolted a swig of wine and told myself to be cool, calm, and collected. If he insisted on playing games, I told myself I was not to rise to it. I would simply demand he leave.

I was removing my lasagne from the oven when he appeared.

'How fortuitous,' he observed, removing his scarf and gloves.

I fought not to sigh loudly. 'Would you like some?' I asked through a slightly clenched jaw.

'It'd be rude not to.'

The irony of him being concerned about being rude was not lost on me. It had never troubled him before, and likewise, why should I worry? I rather unceremoniously slapped a piece onto a plate, the result of which looked as though the lasagne had been dropped from a great height. I smiled to myself as I set the plate down heavily before him.

'Would you like some wine? I only have red.'

'Thank you.'

I nearly laughed aloud as I wondered what Harry and Ron would have thought could they have seen tableau we presented. I attended to my plate with some trepidation, but considered that after my performance yesterday Severus Snape could surely not be so stupid as to risk my ire again. I resolved that if he did dare to criticise my cooking he would end up wearing his lasagne.

As it transpired, he was not disposed to conversation whilst eating. Indeed, I noticed he ate rather robustly. I chanced a few glances while he was thus occupied and, probably for the first time since our re-acquaintance, I wondered as to his personal circumstances. I knew at that point I could never ask — not if I didn't want my head bitten off, anyway. I resented once more that I was such an open book to him, and yet he was a… brick wall. A complete and utter brick wall.

Uncomfortably, I found myself wondering what it might be like to bash that wall right down. Perhaps, _bash_ was not quite the correct word. One could not take a sledgehammer to him; far more subtle means would be required, I decided. But yes, I found I was interested to know what lay beneath, despite the exasperation he had caused me. Troublingly, I thought that it might even be because of it. I could not deny his presence didn't keep me on my toes.

He appeared to sense my appraisal and he paused to look at me with a frown.

'More?' I wordlessly sent the leftovers his way.

He really was an enigma, I thought, as I Banished my own plate to the sink. An enigma, certainly, but as he spooned the remainder of the lasagne onto his plate, I considered he was still just a man.

I allowed myself a small smile; they were not all so very different.

I set myself to the dishes and once they were dispensed with, and there could be no further legitimate delay, I dropped onto the settee. 'I assume you did not drop by just to sample my culinary skills? And do not even think of giving marks out of ten.' I swung my legs up onto the cushions and let my back rest against the arm. 'I'll hex you, otherwise.'

He chose not to sit and he paid my grumpy remark no heed. He stood in front of the fire with his hands clasped behind him. 'Did you not have questions to be answered; or did I mistake your meaning last night?'

The expression on his face was one of fond remembrance. I closed my eyes and buried my head against the settee. I'd be haunted for many years to come by that performance, I realised.

'Why don't you start at the beginning?' I prompted.

He inclined his head a fraction in acknowledgement and I fought not to raise my arms up and cry out in jubilation at finally getting the result I wanted.

'Six or seven years ago I was contacted by the company _Veneficiis_ with a view to consulting on some of their research and development. They were looking to overhaul some of their more lucrative brands… such as _Sleekeazy_ , _Mrs Skower_ and so on. You may imagine that working on such pointless fripperies as shampoo was hardly an ambition of mine, but after the war I was at a loose end.'

I subconsciously touched the ends of my pony tail; _Sleekeazy_ was my best friend.

'I had occasion, of course, to visit their production facilities. I'm not sure I'd ever seen so many greenhouses in one place before. There was something that stood out like a sore thumb, however, and that was the quality of their crops. Much of it was substandard; over-cultivated, perhaps. Yet, the brews were not obviously compromised in their efficacy. Of course, I was later to discover they were bringing in supplementary, better quality, plants to use. '

He paced slowly over the carpet and did not look at me as he spoke. As for myself, had I not been so very interested, I felt I could have closed my eyes and let his softly-spoken words lull me to sleep. He'd always had that hypnotic quality of speaking; it had been actually to our benefit that we'd all been terrified of him at Hogwarts.

'I found out rather by accident that these plants they were bringing in were actually wild.'

I sat up a bit straighter at this. ' _Wild_? But only St Mungo's has special dispensation to cultivate wild plants for potions.'

'Quite so.'

'What did you do about it?'

He fixed me with a long-suffering stare.

'Nothing?' I questioned in disbelief. Before I could continue, however, he interrupted.

'Save the homily, Granger. At the time, this was only one small piece of a jigsaw I had yet to set eyes upon. Furthermore, it was not incumbent on me to do the job of the Ministry.' His eyes glittered. 'It's the duty of _your_ department to inspect such premises and working practices, is it not?'

I bit my lip at that. I'd never been to _Veneficiis_ personally, but neither had I ever heard of any reported problem with the company.

As ever, he appeared to know where my thoughts were headed.

'Next time you have five minutes, check who their shareholders are. You may be unpleasantly surprised.'

I looked at him dumbly. 'You mean there are Ministry officials with an interest?'

'It's a recurring theme. There is no political will to find the answers that you or I seek. And there never will be unless hands are forced. We digress, however. It is perhaps a vanity of mine, but where possible I always endeavour to source, cultivate, procure, whatever you want to call it, my own ingredients for my own potions. Responsibly source, I might add.'

I nodded.

'It was a picture that emerged over time. The problem with the Augureys was particularly noticeable. I was finding fewer and fewer naturally shed Augurey feathers, and when you've spent as many years as I have with such pursuits, it wasn't hard to notice a pattern. And when I began to discover a few of those jinxed trees, such as the one you fell afoul of, I could easily gauge an idea of what was going on. I've been keeping an eye on it for some time, but in recent months activity has increased.'

'Why is that, do you think?'

He shook his head. 'Complacency, maybe? The taste for the spoils are proving too much of a draw. But that is where we should be able to make our advantage – when they become sloppy.'

'What do we do, then? What's the next step?'

'We must find the group responsible for smuggling and dealing in these illegally obtained ingredients. Only then can we force wider questions to be asked. How could we hope to infiltrate St Mungo's to get to the heart of their practices? How could we expose _Veneficiis_? _We_ couldn't… But maybe that is where you and your department will come in, further down the line.'

I said nothing. I wondered how just the two of us could ensnare a smuggling ring. And would I end up pursuing those guilty of malpractice, as he suggested? I wondered how there could ever be a time where I could be allowed to put my ideas forward to the powers-that-be and be listened to.

Emboldened by the fact he seemed not to be disposed to talking in his usual opaque riddles, I decided to try some further questions of my own.

'Why did you decide to take this on yourself? If I may be so blunt — why should _you_ care?'

His chin sank momentarily onto his chest, as if in thought. He stood facing from me, but nevertheless, I witnessed the small smile playing about his mouth.

'Why, the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making, of course.' He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, and I felt myself smiling in understanding.

He finally deigned to sit. 'Do you know where I see this heading, Granger, if things continue unchecked?'

I said nothing.

'If not handled properly, I see this as the end of potion-making as we know it. If we have not the natural resources, what else is there?'

'Only man-made resources.'

'Precisely; do the Muggles not already have many alternatives for our everyday potions?'

'Does the utilising of Muggle products or practices, even, necessarily have to be a bad thing?'

'At the expense of a millennia-old magical tradition? Yes it is. But don't misunderstand me; we may yet have much to learn from the Muggles.'

I couldn't help but be taken by his obvious passion for potion-making. Indeed, to a certain extent, I rather envied it. I'd always wanted to be good at everything, to the point where I never really found my true passion — my true calling, perhaps. I knew him to be highly intelligent and knowledgeable about a lot of things, but he was also an expert in his field, too.

I tried my luck again. 'How did this come to be a one-man mission?'

He sat forward and contemplated his hands. 'The rot, it would seem, is all pervading. You may well wonder at phantom expeditions to Norway, but they are necessary, because despite my personal beliefs, I have the dubious honour of being the leader of a Society which permits such members as _Veneficiis_ and St Mungo's and so on and so forth.'

He looked directly at me then. 'All of whom pay a not insignificant annual membership subscription fee for the privilege. Fees which pay our wages, fund our research… You see now my need for delicacy?'

I frowned in thought at the complexity of the situation.

'And besides,' he continued, in a tone more unguarded than I had possibly ever heard from him. 'If you want a job doing, do it yourself, in my opinion.'

I smiled in agreement. Never were truer words spoken, I decided.

I got to my feet and fetched the wine bottle. 'Would you like a drink?'

He nodded and, as I handed him the glass, he said: 'Do you often find yourself at the bottom of a wine bottle on a weekday?'

I snorted despite myself. 'With conscious effort – no, I do not.'

As I settled myself back down, and suitably fortified, I faced him and spoke bluntly. 'You will allow my assistance now, then? Full co-operation? _Proper_ co-operation — I'll not be here to be manipulated and used.'

'What choice do I have?' He grimaced slightly as if the prospect of our co-operation pained him. I scowled at the disdain. I was sick of disdain. Why was I always met with it from all quarters? That is how it seemed to me. However, I will allow that I could not be so vain as to imagine Severus Snape's patented disdain was for me and me alone. Therefore, I should not let it trouble me so personally.

Indeed, when his next words took me by surprise, and having observed the way in which he said them, suddenly I began to think I'd been assessing him all wrong, since the very start.

'You may prove useful yet, Granger.'

That is what he said. Hardly the most inspiring vote of confidence, but instead of allowing my inner know-it-all to bridle, I decided to focus on what his words said about _him_ , not me. They were not meant to put me in my place, as they appeared on the face of it. They really were his vote of confidence.

I thought on his actions up until this point and wondered why he had resisted involving others in his quest; why he strove to be so secretive all the time. He was no glory hunter, of course, of that I was in no doubt. Perhaps it was his independence? He was an able man; and even without the knowledge of his past, there could be no pretending that Severus Snape was used to relying on only one person – himself.

No doubt he enjoyed causing me frustration and seeing how many sarcastic remarks he could get away with before I would snap. But I'd internalised it as a personal attack, when really, I should have known this was just his modus operandi. And I thought it was becoming clear to me after hearing him speak this night… Each day he must spend keeping everyone at arm's length. Keeping them secure in their fixed orbit around him. I meant no inference through this analogy that he was narcissistic, that he saw himself at the centre of everything, more that he liked everyone where he could see them.

I found it suddenly very poignant.

Did he know what it was like to trust another? I wondered. Did he know what it was like to share burdens rather than to shoulder them? And, maybe, therein would lie his weakness, I thought. _There_ was the crack in which to infiltrate those walls around him. If he did not know what it was to be close to someone, to find out after all these years would surely be his undoing? It was human nature, after all, to form relationships – to seek companionship.

Had anyone other than Lily Evans ever got close enough? Would he ever allow it? I was quite sure he had enough self-awareness to know his weaknesses, hence his façade of cutting comments and aloofness. Hence his high-handed and disdainful manner. It was probably second-nature to him now.

I considered that I would treasure his trust, if he would let me have it. The thought rather took me by surprise, but yes, I decided that I should like to be his friend.

Yet, here was the irony — that I should spend time fathoming the idiosyncrasies of others when I had my own to contend with. Who was I to pontificate on relationships when I often struggled to connect with others?

It was a sobering moment and I sought to get back to the matter at hand.

'So where do we start?'

He considered for a moment. 'I think Cresswell is the starting point. I may need to lean on him a bit more to squeeze out any further details.'

I raised my eyebrows at his terminology.

'As will you, Granger.'

' _Me_?'

'Yes… _You_ shall play up your doubts about my character, not too difficult for you, I'm sure, and perhaps trick him into revealing more than he realises.'

I frowned. 'You're convinced he's looking to implicate you?'

He scoffed. 'I know it.'

'To what end?'

'Good old-fashioned revenge, no doubt.'

I thought about when Cresswell had told me about the punch to the face. I also thought about the other…oddities I'd discovered about the man opposite me and it occurred to me that Cresswell couldn't be responsible for all of them. I still didn't know where the other copies of the Augurey work had gone. And I didn't know how one of those copies came to be stuffed away in Snape's office.

I was grateful that night to have survived this encounter with him relatively unbruised, for a change. He could be serious, when he wanted to be, and he could curtail the condescension. I was not without humour — I didn't mind the odd sarcastic jibe. I could even admire his wit, sometimes. He liked to be in control, well, I could even stomach that. What I resented, however, was that he might manipulate me without me even realising it.

He did not see me as an equal, that much was obvious. But again, I could recognise now that this was not personal on his part— not borne of any particular personal dislike or contempt. Severus Snape simply did not have equals. In his mind I felt it was so.

And so, what remained? Ironically, it seemed to me the only option was that I should have to make it personal. I would make him take notice of me. I would make him appreciate my input, and I would make him feel grateful for it.

It was hypocritical of me, possibly, that I chose not to tell him there and then about my concerns that Cresswell might not be the only person double-crossing him. Was I not then playing the same two-handed game that I derided in him?

Maybe.

But if I was to have my moment, then I needed _something_.

Because I might have won this little skirmish, but I wasn't yet convinced I'd win the battle.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading : )


	12. Twelve

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Twelve**

I like to think it was _we_ decided, but, in actual fact, _he_ decided I was to visit George Cresswell. I was to call upon the old man, unannounced, and try to fish for information. I was to gain his trust by sharing some of my doubts about Severus Snape's professional practice and integrity.

I tried not to agree with too much relish, but his eyes had narrowed at my ready acquiescence nevertheless.

And there I was, standing outside of the home of George Cresswell, and praying to anyone who might be listening that I could go back with something useful to our cause. Eager to impress to the very last, that was me, and that was without everything else I had riding on my success.

Breathing deeply, I knocked briskly on the door and was rewarded soon thereafter when the door opened.

'Mr Cresswell,' I greeted pleasantly. 'Please forgive me for disturbing you, but I wondered if you'd be agreeable to answering a few questions?'

He opened his mouth, protesting. 'Not you, _again_.'

'It's about Severus Snape,' I interceded quickly.

'What about him?' he asked suspiciously.

I adopted a conspiratorial look. 'I have reason to believe he may be implicated in the illegal trafficking of Augureys, and maybe more. I'm investigating the matter, you see.'

Snape had given it to me on good authority that Cresswell was no Legilimens. I dared not to dwell on the provenance of this… _authority_. Even I knew when not to ask questions, sometimes. I schooled my expression to be as blank and as convincing as I could.

'You'd better come in.'

It was only with a small stab of trepidation that I passed over the threshold. I'd also had it on good authority from Snape that Cresswell was not to be feared. I would have cut my own tongue out before allowing any hint of unease to pass my lips.

It was a rather charming little cottage that Cresswell lived in, and as I glanced around, I wondered whether it was the fruit of his ill-gotten gains.

'I've been thinking about what you said to me the last time we spoke.' I perched on the edge of the sofa he gestured at. 'I have been making my own enquiries, you see, and I have discovered, amongst other things, that Snape has been at pains to remove all record of his previous Augurey research. To my mind, he has done it to distance himself from being considered an expert in the creatures.'

'Why should I talk you?'

'Because he needs to be stopped. They _all_ do. I think you have been caught up in matters beyond your control.'

There was a look of scepticism on his face.

'I can put in a good word for you at the Ministry —'

He interrupted me with a bitter laugh. 'Bugger the Ministry,' he scoffed. 'What if Snape finds out I've talked to you?'

'What if he does?'

'Do you not remember the last time? Who knows what lengths he'll resort to a second time around!'

I paused for a moment. 'You... maintain he attacked you that time?'

'Yes!' he exclaimed vociferously. 'Why would I lie?'

'But…' I trailed off with confusion. 'Are you quite sure?'

'I think I'd know who punched me in the face!'

I wasn't sure what to say for the moment. After Snape had denied his involvement, I'd assumed, _we'd_ assumed, Cresswell was just stirring the proverbial. Just being a nuisance.

'Do you have evidence?'

I rather thought this would fox him. How could he possibly provide evidence — incontrovertible evidence? He studied me for a moment and what he did afterwards sent a chill of foreboding down my spine.

He conjured a glass phial and put his wand to his temple. 'Do you have access to a Pensieve?'

Vaguely aghast, I nodded.

'This is all the help I'm giving you. We all know what that man is capable of – what he's done. I've no wish to risk his wrath any further.'

I was unceremoniously ushered outside, clutching the phial tightly in my hand. I stood and simply stared at it, trying to prevent my mind from racing off in all sorts of directions. This certainly wasn't how I'd anticipated the conversation to have gone. There was a sinking feeling that washed over me as I considered that maybe I had been duped after all.

There was only one thing I could do. I Apparated directly to Grimmauld Place and rapped on the door rather more forcefully than was warranted.

Harry appeared at the door and smiled widely. 'Hermione! This is a surprise!'

'I need a favour.' I stepped into the hallway at his invitation. 'Listen, do you still have Dumbledore's Pensieve?'

'Of course.'

'May I borrow it?'

'Yes… Hang on…'

He disappeared up the stairs and returned momentarily with a small shrunken down object. 'Is everything all right, Hermione?'

'Fine.' I smiled as genuinely as I could. 'Just a work thing; nothing major.'

He nodded, but I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced. 'If you're sure.'

I took my leave as politely as I could and returned to my house. Without even taking the time to remove my cloak, I enlarged the Penseive and tipped the phial into it post-haste. The contents hadn't finished rippling before I had dipped my head in.

I watched the scene that played out before me with a keen sense of horror and disgust. I'd arrived in the middle of an argument. I was inside Cresswell's cottage and the man himself sat cowering in his chair whilst Snape paced before him, reminding the old man with a hissed threat the consequences of his loose tongue.

Cresswell did not accept these threats quietly. He leapt to his feet and launched a barrage of vitriol at the dark man before him, the like of which I'm not sure I want to repeat here. From there, it all happened very quickly. Suddenly, Cresswell had his wand in hand, but as quickly as he'd moved, Snape had disarmed him within seconds. With a furious cry of indignation, Cresswell launched himself at his quarry, his arms outstretched as if to grab his opponents throat.

This time, he did somewhat have the element of surprise. They both fell against the wall, and Snape's wand slipped from his grasp. Physically, Cresswell was no real match against the younger of the two, and I felt Snape could easily have wrenched the man from him. Instead, however, he twisted his whole body and used the momentum to swing his fist into the face of his attacker.

There was a sharp cry followed by a dull thump as the older man crumpled to the floor.

From there the memory faded into nothingness and I straightened out of the pensieve. For a good while, I simply sat there. There was a part of me that now wondered how on earth I'd become mixed up in all this — _what_ on earth had I become mixed up in? Just when I thought I knew where I was, something kept materialising to throw everything wide open again.

I glanced at the clock above the fireplace. Snape himself was due to call that evening with a view to hearing of my meeting with Cresswell. I wondered whether I should show him the memory, or whether I should keep it to myself. I paced up and down my living room impatiently, deciding that, no, I could not sit on this.

On the face of it, Snape was playing both sides.

But… Could it really be so?

Instinctively, I thought not. I always wanted to think the best of him, I couldn't help it. But it frustrated me, because there was also a part of me that lacked a certain self-assurance — a lack of confidence that made me afraid I could be duped. Uncomfortably, I knew that my instincts in this matter might prove to be superfluous. The man had consistently fooled better minds than mine in the past, after all.

My deliberations led me only one way, however, and I decided if I could not trust my own instincts, then what would I have left?

Nothing.

I worked myself into what I hoped would appear to be a seething anger when he arrived. (It wasn't difficult — just thinking of a liquorice wand incurred a potent reaction within me).

'Good evening,' he said.

'We'll see…' I looked at him with a hard gaze.

He merely raised an eyebrow. When, however, he stepped in and saw the pensieve on my kitchen table he halted and stared. There could be no doubting he recognised that particular pensieve, of course.

'Go on… Have a look.'

He opened his mouth to speak, but I forestalled him. 'Just look.'

His mouth set into a hard line, but he did as bidden. And as he did so my unease increased somewhat at the game I was playing. I knew not what I would do if it proved that I had chanced my arm wrong. I wanted these recurring misgivings to be curtailed once and for all, and it seemed to me this might shortly be the case. To what end remained to be seen, and, thinking I should err on the side of caution, I withdrew my wand.

When he straightened up and turned to me, I heeded gratefully the open look of disbelief. Still, he _was_ Severus Snape, I thought, and I'd need more to go on.

'Tell me right now what the _hell_ is going on.'

He ignored me.

'Explain now what it is that you and I have just witnessed!' I ordered forcefully.

He took notice of me then. It was a mark of his surprise that there was none of his usual cool poise. Indeed, anger flashed across his countenance and I was reminded suddenly of the _Professor_ Snape that I remembered. Far from being intimidated, however, I felt a thrill.

'Are we really doing this again, Granger? Are you really being this dense?'

I stared at him obstinately.

'You think I'm so stupid as to go around threatening and punching people whenever I feel like it?'

'That was you in his memory – what am I supposed to think? It fits.' I held my breath in anticipation.

'Fits, does it?' he whispered, taking a step towards me.

Instinctively, I raised my wand and his eyes flicked to it.

'You'd draw your wand on me, _again_ , would you?' He still did not draw his, I noted.

'There's something going on here and I don't like it.' I lifted my chin to indicate my vehemence.

He stepped forward again. I think he was trying to push me into using my wand, or at least to reveal that I was undecided as to what I was going to do with it.

'I thought you said you trusted me?' His eyes blazed a little, and I think it was this which sealed it for me. He could have dismissed me out of hand, but it seemed to me I had spotted a trace of offence, and in his shock, he had forgotten to hide it.

Despite having learned all I needed, I found myself pressing on, a little spitefully, perhaps.

'Give me a reason why I should not take this information straight to the Aurors?'

His lip curled in contempt. 'Who are you to call into question my integrity, hmm?'

'I call it as I see it, Snape, and I don't like what I see.'

He was glaring and I matched it brazenly. What I had failed to account for, though - there being only inches between us - was that his proximity might have a frustrating impact upon me. I have a feeling that had I really believed he was guilty, I might have felt my resolve weaken regardless.

'I did not attack Cresswell,' he enunciated slowly. 'Now put your wand _down_.'

'Or you'll do what, exactly?'

Uncomfortably, I forgot to inject any form of threat into these words; indeed, I fear they came out rather more as an invitation. Evidently, he noticed, for his eyes flicked to my wand and his eyebrow twitched.

'Put it away, Granger,' he demanded after a moment.

It was with relief that I did so, and I took the opportunity to move away — his softly delivered demands resonated within me in a way I felt was barely appropriate.

His jaw unclenched at the action and despite the fact I was satisfied with the resolve I had already reached, I hesitated over my next words, wondering if I would ever live to regret them.

'You are being framed, then.' I stated simply. 'Quite comprehensively, it would seem.'

'So… good of your brain cells to join us.'

I smiled to myself. If only he had known what my brain cells really were up to, especially as the most traitorous among them were, outrageously, wondering what it might have been like if he had leaned down, closed the gap between us, and kissed me.

His eyes narrowed when I failed to register any pique at his remark, and I hurriedly blinked away the haze. I cleared my throat, hoping he had not divined the direction of my thoughts. The embarrassment from that would surely have finished me off, once and for all.

I sat down on the settee. 'So, Polyjuice, then?'

'It would seem so.'

'Who? How?'

' _Why_?' he muttered darkly.

He sat down, but I was surprised to see his whole posture was marked with uncertainty. His head was bowed as he contemplated his hands.

'I don't think Cresswell is part of the charade — he was convinced it was you.'

He said nothing – just continued his contemplation.

'If it's not Cresswell, then who? Who else out there would have a grudge against you?'

He slowly raised his head to give me one of the most sardonic looks I have ever had the misfortune to see. 'Are you seriously asking me this, Granger? _Really_?'

I bit my lip, recognising the foolishness of my remark. He had alienated a whole generation of witches and wizards at Hogwarts, and that wasn't even allowing for everything else he'd done in his life.

'I can give you a list of suspects that's longer than one of your old Potions essays.'

I stilled, and then as I thought about my old Potions essays, and indeed how long-winded they'd been, I couldn't help but start laughing. It was a few chuckles at first, but when I clocked his look of affront, I think I may have cackled.

'Think this is funny, do you?' He questioned tightly.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I swiped at them. 'It could be _anyone_!' I exclaimed incredulously.

I just knew he was forcing his stoicism. He wanted to laugh as well, I could tell. It pleased me. As my chuckles subsided with a few deep sighs, I fell back against the settee and closed my eyes, feeling as though I hadn't truly laughed in a long time.

'It could be _you_.'

My eyes flew open and I was startled to see he was on his feet in front of me. I sat up straight. ' _Me_?' I scoffed.

'Why not? It all… fits.'

I leapt to my feet immediately. 'Are you saying _I'm_ mixed up in Augurey trafficking? That's laughable!'

'It's a nice house you've got here, Granger… Never realised the Ministry paid so well.'

I goggled at him. Indeed, I must have gaped like a fish, opening and closing my mouth in the hopes that some words, _any_ words, would issue forth. How could he think I could ever be involved in something so repulsive?

And then I noticed the upturned corners of his mouth and the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes. I could have stamped my foot in frustration.

'I should hex you, do you know that?'

'I'd like to see you try.' He smirked once more and then his humour slipped away to be replaced with a frown. 'Whilst we may enjoy a little poke at my expense, the fact remains this is rather serious for me.'

He began to pace a little in front of the fire.

'We don't know who is behind this and we don't know what their intentions are. Do they wish to blackmail me at some point? Or do they simply wish to discredit me? If it is the latter, then my career could be over within minutes.'

He halted and his gaze was directed to the carpet, and I imagined he was lost in some imagining where it was announced that Severus Snape was caught up in a smuggling ring, and no amount of denial would suggest otherwise in the doubting minds of the public. There would need to be hard evidence to disprove any such accusations.

He was worried, if that is a term I may apply to him. Ironically, after all the consternation he had roused in me through his superior self-assuredness, I found I preferred it to this apparent indecision. Indeed, I rather thought if _he_ didn't know what to do, then what chance did anyone else have?

I stepped over to him and, without thought, put my hand to his arm. I certainly caught his attention for his eyes flicked immediately to my hand and then to my face.

'It's rather serious for _us_ ,' I clarified. 'I'm determined to get to the bottom of all this, and, if I have to save your skin whilst I'm doing it, well, so be it.' I shrugged my shoulders with mock long-suffering.

He turned to me fully. 'Save _my_ skin?'

'Yes.'

For a moment he did not say anything; not until I was just about ready squirm under his contemplation. 'Judging by your previous behaviour,' he began, 'I rather think I should be wary of being shopped to the Ministry by _you_.'

I allowed myself a smile. 'My mind is made up… but I had to first consider all the options, you understand.'

'Oh, _naturally_.'

I smiled wider at his sarcastic tone. I was pleased because I interpreted it as confirmation he was irritated by my perceived mistrust. And that meant that I could have been wrong and my opinion of him did matter to him in some small way. His look became rather searching as if he was unsure what my smile should signify. My smile faltered when I belatedly realised how close to him I'd insinuated myself and that I still had a hand on his arm. Uncomfortably, I looked away and dropped my hand uselessly back to my side.

The lightest touch of a finger under my chin caused me to lift my head in up in surprise. He studied me intently, and I nearly shivered, despite feeling suddenly rather warm.

'Tell me how you will save my skin,' he murmured softly.

My cheeks burned immediately, much to my chagrin. I thought to say something, but even if I could have thought of anything, my chest felt as though it was in a vice and no breath to form words would come. There was only one thing apparent to me — that I should now very much like him to kiss me. It seemed to me in that moment that he might want to kiss me, too.

I could have done it. I could have closed the gap between us and the consequences be damned. But I was transfixed, and so maybe, was he. In the end, it didn't matter, because I doubt even a few seconds had gone by before we were interrupted out of our abstraction.

At the sound of Harry Potter's voice calling my name, you may imagine the speed with which we sprang apart. It was only his Patronus, however, delivering a message to me, but I'm sure I did not imagine the look of deep disgust on my companion's face as he took in the stag before him.

'I'll leave you to it.'

'Hang on!' I called, but in a flurry he was gone.

I contemplated the silver stag for a moment, but couldn't decide whether I was grateful or not for the intrusion.

My irrepressible practicality won the day, of course. I was Hermione Granger, I reminded myself; I do not kiss men I barely know. I do not throw caution to the wind. I do not walk blindly into unchartered territory.

And so, I eventually settled on grateful — for the most part, mind.

* * *

AN: Thank you for the kind reviews : )


	13. Thirteen

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Thirteen**

It was Monday and some days had passed since that incident in my living room. I had not heard from the man since. I was only irritated because I was unsure what our next step was and, of course, I still could not easily contact him myself. I was beginning to wonder as to the likelihood that he might not intend to contact me again. I only knew if that proved to be the case then he would be in for a very rude awakening.

I was sat at my desk, staring unseeingly at a report I was supposed to be writing regarding an infestation of chizpurfles at a Muggle School last week. The office bustled around me, but as I watched, I felt a pang of distaste. Most of them were busy doing nothing. I had more than enough to get on with, but Merlin, it was becoming mind-numbing. There was no sign of them giving me anything other than the most menial of tasks. Were it not for my extra-curricular venture, I would have made rather more protest than I did. As it was, it was somewhat beneficial to have room in my mind for that particular task.

I had spent much time thinking on the incident with Cresswell. Someone was trying to lead me into the path of Severus Snape, and I wondered what they anticipated me to do with the information I had. I had done nothing, and anyone who knew me would know doing nothing is not really in my repertoire.

Mid-morning, I walked to the admin department and put in a new order for chizpurfle repellent. There was the usual smattering of cordial greetings, but little else. I'd tried small talk when I'd first started at the Ministry, but I was no good at it. I didn't bother anymore. I'd never have that effortless sociability that seemed to come to others with ease.

I procured myself a cup of tea and then walked down the hallway back to the office. Halfway there, I came to a halt outside the filing room, where I was deposit my latest report. Clutching the file under my arm, and transferring my mug from one hand to the other, I took out my wand to unlock the door.

The sound of approaching voices and footsteps reached me, and it was only a courteous glance I intended to send my fellow employees. When I did, however, I flinched and nearly jolted the tea from my mug all over me. There were four men approaching and one of them was Severus Snape himself.

When he clocked me, a maddening smirk stretched at his mouth. My thoughts, unbidden, returned immediately to our last meeting. I prayed that the shadows in the hallway would mute any subsequent blush.

Of course, I was not to be left unscathed.

'Miss Granger,' called Bertie, the boss. 'I have a meeting to attend now; will you answer any Floo-calls in my absence? There's a good girl.'

I clenched my teeth together so hard my parents would have flinched. I glared as openly as I dared, as they passed, but it appeared only to further amuse Snape.

I scowled as they retreated around the corner. So, he was officially back from Norway… How kind of him to inform me of that fact. I wondered, not for the first time, if I had ever met a more infuriating man in my life.

The answer, as always, was an emphatic no.

Perversely, though, I was beginning to see I rather enjoyed being infuriated by him.

As the day wore on I wondered what the likelihood was that I'd go home and find him there. Or was it more likely that he let me stew further for his own amusement? I was afraid for my own sanity if he decided on the latter.

As it transpired, I felt a traitorous pang of disappointment when I arrived home and found he hadn't let himself into my house. I've never been afraid of irony so I allowed myself a rueful smile. But there was an owl waiting for me — the missive its beak bore his spiky script and I tore it open straightaway.

I was to present myself at the Most Extraordinary Society for Potioneers at half past six that evening. Those were his orders. I crumpled up the parchment and wondered if his return from Norway had more to do with not wanting to visit my personal abode anymore, than it did anything else. Or was that indescribably self-absorbed of me? Still, I rather doubted he could not have noticed that moment between us.

In any case, I changed out of my work robes and if I spent time deliberating over my appearance from there, well, I chose not to analyse it. I Apparated to Edinburgh shortly after and found the building I was visiting to be shrouded in darkness. I gave the large oak door an experimental nudge and found it to be locked. I lifted the knocker twice and told myself there would be trouble if he'd got me up here on another fool's errand.

Luckily, only a few moments later, I heard the sound of the lock and then the door opened. It was Snape himself and he held a candlestick in one hand.

'Good evening,' he said cordially.

I stepped in and he shut the door. When he locked it, I looked at him with raised eyebrows

'Got the place to yourself, have you?' I injected just enough suggestion into my tone and sent him a small smirk.

I think he scowled, but in the half-light I couldn't be sure. He started walking, ignoring my attempt at teasing. I followed him up the stairs, wondering if he would mention our last meeting. He didn't, of course.

He marched into his office, where the fire crackled and several candles floated around bathing a warm glow that was lacking elsewhere. I sat in the chair in front of his desk without waiting for an invitation. I decided it was time to dispense with ceremony, especially since he'd never even engaged with it in the first place. He sat behind his desk — all very professional and business-like. I was convinced now that I certainly hadn't been the only one to have felt that _frisson_ between us.

'You are back from Norway, then,' I stated simply.

'Indeed.'

I stared at him expectantly. He, however, was in no hurry to expound.

' _Why_ are you back from Norway?' I ground out.

He shifted and seemed to rouse himself. 'After our discovery last week, it occurred to me I might be better served being able to account for my movements.'

I nodded in agreement. 'And the Ministry?'

'Just a follow-up meeting… They are clueless and have no resolve one way or the other.'

'And what is _our_ resolve?'

He considered for a moment. 'I think it is time for more… _pre-emptive_ action on my part.'

' _Our_ part, you mean.'

He shifted in his chair. 'May I remind you of the type of people we are dealing with? I think it's —'

'I'm in, remember?'

He shrugged elegantly. 'Very well; I've been working on a Tracking spell for some time now. This was always going to be a last resort — to put a trace on the Augureys and their eggs themselves and hope they lead us to the heart of the matter. However, there are problems to be considered. For one, we can't know precisely where they will target next, and neither can we charm every Augurey in this country. The other major risk, of course, is that if my spell is detected, it may be used in reverse…'

He flicked his hand in nonchalant dismissal of the implications.

'Is it likely to be detected?'

'I'm prepared to take the risk.'

I nodded to myself. I was prepared, too. I thought with only a smidge of envy that he was one of the most talented wizards in the country. I thought it highly unlikely his spell would be detected.

'How will we implement it?

He opened his pocketbook and examined it for a moment. 'Over time I have recorded when and where I have been aware of attacks on Augurey nests. The pattern is not conclusive, however, there are places I believe could be next on the list, simply because they do appear to strike in the same place with any regularity.'

'How does the spell work?'

'We will cast it and then I have this…' He reached into the drawer and pulled out a large folded up piece of parchment. He unfolded it to reveal a large map of the United Kingdom. 'This is where I haven't had chance for further refinement… You may recall, no doubt, Potter's map of Hogwarts?'

The contempt in his expression amused me despite myself. I made sure to contain it.

'I could not hope to achieve the same precision on such a scale as this, but it should lead us to within a workable radius.'

'Impressive.'

'Shall I give you a demonstration?'

I nodded, straightening in anticipation.

He withdrew his wand and demonstrated first the wand movement and then recited the Latin phrase to accompany it. Following which, he repeated both together and aimed his wand directly at me. My mouth fell open in outrage as a blue flash enveloped me. I felt nothing physically, of course, as it hit me, but there was a great deal of umbrage at his cheek.

He gave a dry chuckle as he turned the map towards me. I found Edinburgh on the map and there was a glowing red dot signifying my presence within the vicinity at least, of the Society.

'Very good,' I said sarcastically. 'Now, feel free to remove it.'

He did so with a smirk and I watched the red dot disappear.

Uncomfortably, I was reminded of something. 'This, ah, wasn't how you knew I went to see Cresswell, that time, was it?'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Come now, Granger; I thought we'd progressed beyond such little doubts.'

I wished suddenly he would call me Hermione, but stupidly, I felt as though I couldn't request it — as if the opportunity had passed by some time ago.

'But to answer your question,' he continued, oblivious to my internal fancies. 'Cresswell told me… It was that simple.'

I nodded to myself. What a novelty this was, having him give straight answers to simple questions!

'Have you had any further thoughts on who might be utilising Polyjuice against you?'

'No,' he replied. 'I don't anticipate it is a favoured modus operandi for them. It's too fraught with pitfalls, whilst I am at large myself. Still, they need only incriminate me once. of course.'

At the contemptuous turn of his expression, I considered a matter which had been poking at me ever since our discovery about the polyjuiced Snape. And so, in the spirit of full co-operation, I decided to reveal the paltry remains of my hand.

I coughed. 'There's, ah, something we haven't discussed before, which may or may not have a bearing on matters.'

'Oh?'

'I tried to track down your work ' _Secrets of the Augurey and Other Creatures' —_ I came here in fact to find it.'

He simply stared me.

'It was gone.' I stated. 'Mr Ridley also told me you had his own personal copy.'

Now I observed his eyes narrow marginally.

'Similarly, the, ah, original from the offices of the _Practical Potioneer_ has also disappeared.'

Now his expression clouded precipitously, and I hesitated over what I was to say next.

'I should say it _had_ disappeared, until I, um, found it.'

' _Granger…'_ he purred warningly.

I actually squirmed. 'I found the copy from the _Practical Potioneer_ here, in this office, the day I came for your liquorice wands.'

He leaned forward over the desk, eyes blazing. 'You're only telling me this _now_?'

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but when he rose to his feet and stalked over to the sideboard, whereupon he poured himself a hefty measure of whisky, I found the words died in my throat. However, whilst I fully anticipated a torrent of vitriol to follow, there was, surprisingly, none. His back was to me and for a moment he did nothing except stand there. Then, his head tilted back as he swallowed the contents of the tumbler in one go.

'Fuck,' he said, setting the glass down with a heavy thump.

I witnessed a brief drop of his shoulders as he sighed, and then he drew himself back up and returned to his chair across from me. Call it a revelation, but right there I knew that my erstwhile desire to wrong-foot this man was not the true reflection of my feelings, for I felt no satisfaction from where I was sat. None, whatsoever.

'It was a fascinating read, I must say,' I offered, glancing at him carefully.

He stilled and gifted me with a hard look. 'Why, thank you for that scintillating peer review.'

I smiled appreciatively. I think the clenching of his jaw signalled he was not as irritated with me as he might try to convey. I was beginning to enjoy very much this tit for tat between us, especially as I sensed he also took enjoyment from it.

'Was there anything on the document in question that might signify anything useful? He asked.

'No… You may examine it yourself if you wish. Clearly, though, if you did not leave it here then someone got in here and did so. Surely, it would have been too risky using Polyjuice to come in here… Especially as you were supposed to be in Norway.'

He made no answer; he stared into the fire with a contemplative frown on his face.

'Could someone who works here be in on it?'

He stirred at that. 'Theo might be abrasive, but I have no reason to believe he would get mixed up in anything like this. The building, as you know, is open to the public, and whilst my office isn't, it isn't kept locked. There is no need to do so.'

'Is it worth speaking to Albert —'

He snorted. 'You've seen him… An elephant could probably sneak past him undetected.'

I bit back a laugh and ran a hand over my face tiredly. I could tell from the hard set of his jaw that he resented the not-knowing — resented that someone, somewhere, dared to cross him. He had the benefit of an innate cautiousness, however. No recklessness for him, because unlike me, he thrived on playing the long-game. I could only wonder who could be foolish enough to take him on, as I knew who I would put my money on emerging victorious.

In the silence of his contemplation I found an opportunity to study him unnoticed. I wondered what would have happened had Harry's Patronus not interrupted the other night. Even just looking at him, I could feel a subtle accompanying warmth within me. I had to wonder at it, because I couldn't recall quite ever feeling the same sensation unbidden before. I always thought I wasn't the type for silly fancies or daydreaming, that my mind only ever sought the comfort of that which was certain — knowledge and facts. It didn't waste unnecessary time on feelings and needs and those intangible desires.

When I came to see that he was now looking at me, too, I felt that warmth pulse hotly. I sought to deflect his gaze and I folded my arms defensively.

'What do we do next?' I asked as evenly as I could.

When he did not answer straight away, I felt I might be perilously close to fidgeting.

'This Saturday we shall commence placing the tracking charms. From there, we simply hope for a breakthrough.'

'Very well.'

I was pleased to have something to do that would hopefully prove productive. I thought about the event of us catching the smugglers, and the consequences thereafter. As he had intimated before, the ripples and aftershocks I imagined would _finally_ be my opportunity. From there I would expand my career — I would achieve change. I would influence progress. One may be forgiven for thinking that it was I who was the glory hunter, but I simply always wanted to be helpful and, indeed, useful.

I discovered that he was watching me whilst I was thus occupied. It was a calculating look and he was not at pains to hide it.

'Have you not already made enough of a difference in this world, Granger?' he asked eventually.

My blood ran rather cold at his divining the direction of my thoughts. There was no Legilimency involved, of course; I was apparently just so very transparent in some ways to him.

'No,' I replied plainly.

'You may not always be thanked for it.'

I stilled, somewhat confused by his train of thought. 'I don't do it for thanks...'

He nodded in a gesture of deference to my words, but I had the distinct impression he didn't really believe them. I would have pressed the point, but he prevented it by getting to his feet and pouring himself another measure of whisky. I also got to my feet, deciding it might now be sensible for me to take my leave. I told him I would see him Saturday, but he said nothing. I thought that would be the last of the matter, except, as I reached the door, he called out.

'Oh, and Granger?'

I looked over my shoulder at him.

'Remember — our association must remain between the two of us for now.'

I nodded reaching for the door.

'There's a good girl.'

I froze at that. He dared to use that precise dig at me, knowing full well I hated it. No doubt he hoped for a reaction, but I wondered if he realised the reaction _he_ had elicited was far from what he likely expected. For, whilst that chauvinistic phrase usually _always_ elicited a burst of frustration within me, it was lacking here.

It was lacking, because, as I took my leave, I found myself smiling.

I was smiling, because I wondered if he even realised he was flirting with me. And if he did realise it, I thought, did he know that it was working?

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading : )


	14. Fourteen

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Fourteen**

Saturday dawned and it was with no small amount of eagerness that I prepared myself for the day ahead — the day which I had steadily been looking forward to. The day where we might start making some workable progress.

We were to depart as soon as it was light and the Augurey's would be back in their nests. I had no idea _where_ we were going, of course. That, as always, was to be his domain.

He arrived promptly, of course, looking as dour as ever.

'What a lovely day!' I exclaimed, mainly because I found his silence off-putting. 'Or not,' I muttered to myself, when I received a look that might have curdled milk.

'Where are we going first?' I tried as I fastened up my cloak.

'You'll see,' was all I got in reply.

He Apparated us to the edge of a woodland that I later determined to be in Exmoor, and then he turned to me and gave me my instructions.

'We will spend only an hour at each forest, casting as many spells as we can, whereupon we shall meet back at the Apparition point. Do you understand?'

I contemplated before replying. 'I think so.'

I swallowed a smile as he scowled, reaching into his robe and producing two brooms. I tried not to grimace at the memory of what had happened the last time we'd attempted something similar. I only hoped I would not make a fool of myself a second time. Maybe, if I was lucky, _he_ would make a fool of himself, I thought uncharitably. However, as I watched him throw up his hood over his head and gracefully launch himself up into the canopy of the forest, I decided it was very unlikely.

I threw up my own hood and launched myself off the ground with slightly more trepidation.

I floated silently amongst the boughs — not a simple task as bumping into branches and causing a commotion would no doubt disturb the nesting birds. I scoured the area around me looking for the tell-tale sign of the Augurey nest. On discovery of a nest, there would be the next issue — trying to get close enough to get good aim.

Frustratingly, as the hour fell away, I wasn't particularly pleased with my progress. I'd only managed to successfully use the charm three times. With a glance at my watch, I started back in the direction of our meeting point at the edge of the forest. He was waiting for me at the clearing. I could see his pocket-watch in one hand and a faint trace of a scowl on his face.

'I'm only a few minutes late,' I admonished.

'But late, nevertheless,' was his riposte.

His hood was still up and he glanced around the clearing suspiciously. 'Come, we should not linger.'

Next stop was Sherwood Forest in Nottinghamshire where we repeated the same process. Each time I cast the charm on those mournful birds, I felt my determination increase. And we continued in much the same vein throughout the day. It was not always easy, particularly because as the hours progressed, the likelihood of encountering unsuspecting Muggles walking in some of the woodlands increased.

It was our last stop when things began to take an unexpected turn.

He Apparated us again, and when the world stopped spinning, I found myself standing on rocky outcrop looking down on a large expanse of forest. I knew precisely where we were, but only because if I followed the tops of the trees the vista became disturbed by the distant, but unmistakable, spires and turrets of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I stared uncomfortably for a moment, not sure how I felt to be back in this place with him of all people. I glanced to the side of me and was vaguely surprised to see he'd sat down on a rock and was unwrapping a liquorice wand.

'Do you subsist entirely on sweets?' I asked dryly.

He ignored me. He preferred to scan the horizon before him and chew thoughtfully.

I tried again. 'Do you think they would target the Forbidden Forest?'

'Without a doubt.' He gave me a look. 'One of the most remote forests in country, one which is also off-limits to Muggles… Where would _you_ go to capture an Augurey?'

I sat down next to him with a sigh. 'Perhaps Hagrid could — '

'I think not.'

I ground my teeth together tightly. I looked around me again and marvelled once more at the sight. 'I'd forgotten how beautiful it is up here.'

I felt rather than saw his sideways look.

'Sorry — I've been told I'm not very good at being quiet.'

I thought he was going to ignore me again, but he did say something quite unexpected, and conspicuously lacking in bite, too.

'Who told you that?'

I chanced a look at him, but he was distracted with rummaging through the pocket of his cloak, no doubt for more liquorice wands, I decided. I hesitated before replying, not wanting to appear hard done by.

'Just people,' I replied with a non-committal shrug. 'It doesn't bother me, anymore.'

He surprised me by giving a harsh chuckle. 'I don't believe that for a minute.'

I straightened, uncomfortable at his observation. But then I recalled my recent outbursts at him and realised it was not an unusual deduction for him to have made.

'All right, I get frustrated at work sometimes.'

I no longer took it personally, however, when I witnessed the glazed expressions of my friends when I got on my soapbox about my latest quest or concern — glazed expressions, which had become far more prevalent since they had embarked on family life. It wasn't a one-way street, mind. I'm sure I was sometimes guilty of the same whenever I heard for the umpteenth some anecdote regarding the children. Still, I wouldn't change that for the world.

I thought about my work colleagues and wondered uneasily, for possibly the thousandth time, why I doubted anyone would care if I never set foot back in the Ministry ever again. The more off-putting traits of my personality that I'd tempered through maturity had not disposed me to making friends any easier than they had as a child.

'They can't all be wrong, though, can they?' I murmured more to myself than anything. I thought of the fleeting romantic relationships that I'd had… fleeting being very much the operative word.

'Human nature is such that we, whoever we are, look to seek the approval of others. Although, it's importance might diminish over time, of course. Yet, is it worth compromising one's self to find such approval? In my experience, no. Take it or leave it; I care not for the whims of others.'

I'm sure to his ears he spoke dispassionately, but to mine, I felt buried within his words was a deep personal hurt. And there was that ever-present wall too; that wall I'd imagined him having, which prevented the interest of another. Was that where I would end up, too, one day? Resentful, possibly? Cynical and lonely... probably.

He was right in one way, however. I could not change who I was to satisfy others. I'd tried it with Ron and it had been a mistake. Take it or leave it; he was right.

'Just seems so easy for everyone else.' I cleared my throat. 'Anyway, Auntie Hermit hasn't got _that_ bad a ring to it.'

I felt myself smile, and when I saw out of the corner of my eye the small smirk about his mouth, I felt it widen further. I was beginning to realise I did not mind so much providing him with amusement. Now that I'd decided he did not wish for my humiliation, I felt it almost an achievement now to be the source of that smirk.

I also wanted to kiss that smirk; there was no point denying it. At that precise moment, I did not really understand where these disconcerting desires sprang from. With the passage of time and much reflection I discerned their provenance. It was _because_ he infuriated me; it was _because_ of his confidence; it was _because_ he impressed himself upon me in a way I had not ever experienced. I felt there was no particular effort on his part to impress me; therefore, what I felt must be instinctive— innate, perhaps; a connection on the most fundamental of levels.

Or maybe I really was spending too much time on my own.

He stood then, and I blinked away the haze. I got to my feet and followed him down a winding path until we came to the foot of the outcrop and the murky depths of the Forbidden Forest loomed large in front of us. I wondered at this delay and what it had served. I wondered if the proximity of Hogwarts had disposed him to hesitancy. I wondered if he ever visited the castle, but felt I didn't have the courage to ask.

'We should stay close by in there,' he said. 'We shall stick to the outer edges. It would not do for our presence to become known to anyone… or anything.

I nodded my agreement and then pulled my hood over my head, before stepping into the trees. This forest was far denser than any other we had entered that day. As they had as a child, the noises that emanated from within still sent a discomforting shiver down my spine. I got onto my broom and floated up into the canopy, ensuring to keep within range of my companion.

It wasn't always easy to spot the Augurey nests. They were well hidden within the trunks of trees or camouflaged against the boughs, and as nocturnal creatures, it was not as though one could rely on the movement of the bird. I managed to cast a few tracking charms, but I was frustrated again not to have used more. I looked down to the forest floor, imagining what other creatures I might encounter. The only thing I did encounter was a faint sense of unease at the drop beneath me. I tightened my sweaty grip on my broom in response.

It was as I was scanning my surroundings that I realised there was something that caught my eye. I noticed the air would shimmer faintly in a small clearing on the ground. I pushed the nose of my broom downwards and descended a few metres. I saw the air shimmer once more.

Before I could investigate further, my companion pulled up beside me.

'Sight-seeing, are we, Granger?'

'Look down there.'

I saw a frown come over his face as he peered in the direction I was pointing. 'What do you think it could be?' I whispered.

Whatever it was, it was obviously heavily warded and was at pains not to be discovered. However, whoever had cast the spells had not been entirely proficient, hence that I'd spotted it.

'Is it structure, of some sort, perhaps?'

He made a noise of agreement, then spoke softly. 'I'm going to drop something down there, to see if the wards react.'

I could only nod dumbly at that whisper.

I watched as he reached into his pocket, pulling out an object that immediately led me to issue a gasp. 'Oh no! Surely not one of your liquorice wands?' I lamented with mock sadness.

I particularly enjoyed the following glare that I received.

The liquorice wand dropped silently to the forest floor, except, before it came to land, it ricocheted violently back up into the air to eventually land several feet away.

' _Merlin_ ,' I muttered wide-eyed, glancing at my companion.

He descended slightly on his broom with a smirk. Mildly amused, I also sank my broom downwards. When I reached him, he had his wand in hand and he bade me to be silent, while he tried to dismantle as many of the wards as he could.

I surreptitiously edged my broom away from him as the low mutterings of his counter-spells permeated around me under my hood. Instead, I scanned the vicinity for any sign of life, human, creature, or otherwise. There appeared to be nothing. No movement or sound had materialised at the breaching of the wards.

When next I looked downwards, I was surprised to see there was now a large wooden hut that had appeared.

'Come on, Granger,' he said. 'We should be able to approach now.'

He landed, still giving the hut a wide berth, and then he picked up a stone off the floor, throwing it against the building. Nothing happened.

'Of course, I can't be fully certain there are no remaining jinxes.' He gestured with his arm. 'After you,' he offered dryly.

I glared at him, but of course, I would have cut off my right arm rather than admit any trepidation. A fact that I knew he anticipated and was amused by, no doubt.

There were no windows for us to look inside — the only option was the door. I stepped around to it until we both stood in front of it, wands raised. With a simple unlocking charm, I opened the door. I held my breath as we stepped in, but there was obviously no one there. With _Lumos_ charms, we moved inside fully and scanned the inside.

I could see several old, battered brooms. There were several empty crates stacked in one corner. There was a small table and a chair with some scrolls of parchment and quills, and there were also a few leather bags hanging up on the wall.

I scowled with distaste. 'Clearly, these are their _poaching_ _accessories_.'

Snape was examining the parchments on the desk, but even from where I was stood I could see they were blank. He waved his wand over them a few times to see if anything might be revealed, but nothing materialised. I was frustrated there was not more incriminating indication of who we were dealing with, yet, there was still opportunity afforded to us, I realised.

'We should place your tracking charm on these items.'

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. 'That is a good idea.'

I nearly fell over at those indifferently delivered words.

We proceeded to charm particularly the bags and crates. This was likely to be far more successful than trying to charm the Augureys and their eggs themselves, and I felt a burst of triumph every time I cast the spell. When there was nothing left to charm, I looked at my companion.

'What now?'

He shrugged. 'We wait, I suppose.'

I didn't like the sound of that; uncomfortably, I could see a large part of that was disappointment that I wouldn't know when I'd see him again. Who knew how long it might be until the poachers struck again? There was something else, too.

'You will tell me won't you, if any of your spells are triggered?'

' _Yes_ ,' he muttered impatiently. 'Now, shall we have a sit down and a cup of tea, or shall we make good our escape while we still can?'

'Oh... I'll have tea, if you're making it.'

He threw up his hood and haughtily marched past me to the door. I bit my lip, wondering whether I might do better to tame my new-found bravado when dealing with this man. I followed him outside, deciding it was far too thrilling to do that.

He had already started rebuilding the wards and I Summoned the brooms to us. We hadn't long kicked off from the ground when the hexes started. It all happened very quickly and some of it is a blur, but I recall that one hex hit the tail of Snape's broom before we could get away. His broom sputtered violently, and he launched himself off it, before it nose-dived straight into the ground. As he hit floor, I swooped around and let off a barrage of spells to cover him till he got back to his feet.

There were two figures in pursuit, their faces covered. I kept my broom moving – swerving and swooping in order to avoid getting hit. Snape, by now, was also volleying spells at them from the ground and in time there was a pained yelp as one of our attackers went sailing through the air. Unfortunately for me, my limited flying skills were beginning to show, in that I felt faintly dizzy as I kept my broom moving, trying not to be a sitting duck. My stomach was in my throat as I steered my broom at speed with only one hand, my wand clutched tightly in my other. Alas, I was not quite successful. A jinx that rebounded off a tree, caught the end of my broom, sending me into a tail-spin.

It happened very fast. I held on with all my strength, hoping that I might regain control, but I could smell the burning wood and knew the battered old broom to be compromised. I thought I would hit a tree, go crashing to the ground, and that would be the end of it. Instead, I felt the brooms rotation slow, as if arrested by an invisible hand. As my vision steadied, I could see Snape had his wand pointed at me, but the remaining assailant had also noticed. Rather than finish the job he'd started on me, he used the opportunity to strike Snape himself.

The slowed momentum of my broom allowed me to aim as best I could, but I was a fraction too late. I did hit him, and he howled in pain, before scrambling off to his fallen associate, but I also knew Snape had been hit, because my broom suddenly descended at a rapid pace. Luckily, I had already lost a lot of height and, at the last second, I jumped and landed with a tumble amongst the undergrowth.

I flew back to my feet as soon as I could and brandished my wand, but our attackers had made a run for it. Immediately, I then rushed over to my fallen companion. I knelt down and pushed his hood away from his face. There was dark red blood oozing from within his hair and he was clearly unconscious.

As I stared at him, for a split second my mind went entirely blank, and then the cogs started turning again and I decided I could start with an _Ennervate._ Before I could do so, I found myself nearly touching his face. Indeed, my hand was hovering over him, somewhere near his cheek, when suddenly his eyes sprang open of their own accord. It took a moment, but the comprehension soon dawned within them.

'They're gone,' I assured swiftly, dropping my hand and hoping he hadn't seen.

He raised himself up into a sitting position, grimacing as he put a hand to the blood running down the side of his face.

'Thought you were supposed to be saving _my_ skin?' he grumbled, looking up at me.

I smiled.

Clearly no lasting damage had been done.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing : )


	15. Fifteen

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Fifteen**

He wouldn't allow me to take him to St Mungo's.

When I tried to insist that he should be examined by a professional, he scoffed, claiming it was only a 'bump'.

I could hardly leave him to his own devices, so I Apparated us directly into my living room. When I directed him into my spare bedroom and bade him sit on the bed, the pliancy with which he did so suggested he was feeling the 'bump' rather more than he might let on. I Summoned the implements I would need and levitated a candle to hover near his head.

'What did you hit your head on?' I asked, rolling up my sleeves. Were the situation not so very serious, I might have laughed at the vaguely discomfited look in his eyes at my actions. He was probably wishing he'd gone to St. Mungo's.

'Tree root, I think,' he murmured, frowning to himself. 'The bastard got me with a stunner…'

I gave a small smile. 'Thanks for that, by the way.'

He lifted his head gingerly and managed a half-hearted smirk. 'The thought of having to explain your demise to Potter was too much to bear.'

I let out an involuntary snort of laughter. ' _Thanks_.'

I watched the blood glisten on his face and decided I couldn't delay any longer. I was uncomfortably reminded of another time when I'd witnessed him bleed and my stomach tightened nervously.

Corralling every ounce of courage, I stepped right up to him and motioned to his head.

'May I?'

He only managed a minute nod in reply.

My fingers touched his jaw to tilt his head towards the light and I had to block out determinedly the feel of the slight bristle to his chin. Then my hands had to go to his hair, parting it to give access to the bleed. It was hair that that was shorter than I recalled from our previous acquaintance, but no less dark. It was soft and shiny as I trapped it flat with one hand and cleaned the wound with the other.

Thankfully, the cut was smaller than I'd anticipated. He made not a movement or a sound as I bathed and then stitched the wound with a whispered incantation. Before my Gryffindor courage could desert me, I took hold of his chin once more and cleaned the dried blood from his cheek and forehead. I didn't dare look to see were his gaze was directed. Only when I retreated to wash my hands did I finally feel my cheeks start to burn hotly.

I cleared my throat and returned. 'Pain reliever?' I proffered brightly.

He examined the unmarked phial with interest. 'Home-brewed?'

'Yes.'

I smiled inwardly at the sniff he gave the potion before deciding to down it one go.

'Thank you,' he said softly.

I Banished my materials and found myself pleased at his quiet gratitude. I glanced back at him and was struck by his noticeably wan pallor. 'Perhaps you _should_ go to St. Mungo's, you know.'

He stirred. 'Certainly not.'

'Well, you'll have to stay here, then, for the time being. You could be concussed – the last thing you need is to Splinch yourself trying to Apparate.'

He looked caught in two minds, but I could tell by the lack of his usual self-assuredness, and by the fact he had yet to try and stand up, that he was not feeling right.

'I'm fine —'

' _Really_? Get some rest,' I ordered. 'We can discuss our next move in the morning.'

He looked faintly disgruntled by my suggestion that he rest, but I pointedly ignored it. I left the room and shut the door behind me, thinking he might be more amenable if I removed myself from the equation. For a few moments, I simply stood there and wondered not for the first time what on earth I'd got myself into. It had only seemed like yesterday I had embarked on my survey for the Ministry, and yet, there I was now engaged in subterfuge and intrigue with my former Potions Master, of all people, and Merlin only knew what fate could have befallen us in the Forbidden Forest.

I will always remember how that evening passed so frustratingly slowly. I resorted to pottering about quietly until that could not sufficiently distract me. From there, I spent much of it trying to occupy my thoughts with anything other than Augureys, work, the Ministry, or indeed, the man who by all accounts was sleeping in my spare bedroom. I assumed it so, because there came no sound from within, but I was too afraid to push the door ajar and check.

It was a foolish task I'd set myself, however. The fire crackled comfortingly as I curled up in my armchair, just thinking. I thought about the situation we were in; I thought about the events of that afternoon in the Forbidden Forest; I thought about myself, and I thought about him.

I thought too much about him.

I stared into the fire for an indeterminable stretch of time without arriving at any constructive conclusion or resolve. Against my better judgement, a bottle of wine sat at my feet, and the only certainty at the time seemed to be the wine glass in my hand.

Perhaps I drank too much wine that night. Or, maybe, it was the result of the days earlier events, but in any case, when I removed to my bedroom I struggled to sleep. My mind would not cease its ramblings, as much as I tried to admonish it firmly into silence. Neither would it relinquish its grip on visions of dark hair, of blood, of soft whispers, of crashing spells, and that smirk which teased me to no end.

I can blame the wine all I want, but it was ultimately my innate curiosity that eventually took my feet to the bedroom door opposite mine. When I nudged it open, and entered the room, it could only have been Gryffindor recklessness as he might term it. Listening hard enough, I could hear him breathe evenly, and that gave me the security I needed to produce a dim Lumos at the tip of my wand.

He _was_ sleeping soundly. I'd half wondered if he might have taken himself off without telling me, so I was relieved to see it wasn't so.

I simply watched, and then I considered I was rather invading his privacy, but I was fascinated despite myself. It seems ridiculous now, but instead of retreating, I moved to perch delicately on the edge of the bed. I held in my breath, but he didn't stir. He'd taken off his robe, but otherwise was fully clothed. His hair, that shock of black hair, was splayed across the pillow and I could only think to myself that I desired to touch it again.

When I raised my hand to do just that, I came to my senses and folded my hand into my lap, turning slightly so that my back was to him. I wondered how I could have wound up in such a mawkish mood. With hindsight, I know exactly why I should have felt the way I did. Is it so unsurprising that I felt drawn to such an incongruity as he — the more he featured in my otherwise rather staid existence? It could have been fanciful on my part, but there was a spark of something there, too; I'd felt it, more than once. I longed to know if he felt it as well.

It must have been such sentimental meanderings of thought that led me to allow the events that followed. Events that only time would be able prove them as a mistake or otherwise. There was no scope for logic or sense in that darkened room; my only thought, ultimately, was for myself.

I got to my feet, fully intending to return to my bedroom, but it transpired I'd dithered too long. I should have known a man such as he would not sleep easily.

'Have you come to verify for yourself if I sleep upside down or not?'

Naturally, I flinched. I twisted my head round to see him watching me. How long he might have been aware of my presence I didn't like to consider. I managed a smile, self-conscious though it was, but I always enjoyed that he could turn his particular brand of wit onto himself.

'No,' I replied, unsure what I would give as my reason for being there.

'What's wrong?' he asked, shifting up into more of a sitting position. With the movement he scowled and put a hand to his head.

'Is it still hurting?' I stepped closer to him. 'Here, let me have a look.'

I brandished the glowing tip of my wand expectantly, a voice in my head railing that I might have done only half a job in healing his head. When he made no move to demur, I knelt on the bed and set about my examination. With relief, I noted there was no swelling or sign of anything untoward.

'It's fine,' I murmured. 'There's just some bruising.'

My next action I completed quite without any awareness of it. Hair that had fallen across his forehead I swept back with the palm of my hand, in a soft smoothing gesture. It was only when my hand finished its movement to alight on his shoulder that I stupidly realised what I'd done. Our eyes met and in the dim light his looked blacker than ever; I tried to decipher something, anything, from his countenance, but I drew an uncomfortable blank.

He spoke first. 'I think it would be prudent for me to leave.'

The words, though quietly spoken, pierced me rather acutely. But he then unwittingly, or even wittingly, sealed both our fates. As I let my hand drop uselessly from his shoulder, and blinking away our connection, lest he see the mortification I felt, he caught my wrist. If he sought to lessen the sting from his words by rubbing his thumb across the back of my hand, then he achieved it most prodigiously.

His fingers burned me, yet conversely, I shivered. That shiver was more eloquent to me than any of my earlier protracted considerations, so I leaned forward, grasped his face with both hands, and I pressed a kiss to his mouth. I shut my eyes tight, afraid that if I opened them I would see only resistance. But then his hands were at my waist, pulling me to him, and I knew I'd chanced right. I fluttered my fingers down the length of his jaw until I could curl them around the nape of his neck. His mouth opened beneath mine and the kiss was warm and soft, but urgent all at the same time. I couldn't have prevented the small sigh of satisfaction no matter how hard I tried.

When we pulled apart, the instinctiveness with which I gently caught his bottom lip between my teeth surprised even me. My wand lay discarded, but the Lumos charm continued to bathe a glow in which for me to study him. My hand was still clasped to his jaw and I tilted his head so that he might meet my scrutiny. I could see now that to read him was to look at what wasn't present — there was none of his usual maddening self-assurance or his sneering reserve. Indeed, to my mind, there was only, perhaps, guarded expectancy.

I felt a slow smile form at it. I can't deny the sense of satisfaction I felt at having such a man at my mercy. The man himself would be appalled if he could read this, for any number of reasons, but I'm sure he would assert it was not I who held the upper hand.

In any case, my most pressing desire was not to use this opportunity to have vengeance for all the times he'd infuriated me or made me feel two feet high. Indeed, from the moment he'd touched my hand I'd resolved that I would have him. The consequences, be damned. My sensible nature, be damned. I wanted to be touched. I wanted to feel alive. And I think I'd decided already that I wanted him to be the one to do it.

Perhaps I'd dithered too long, because I saw the corners of his eyes narrow slightly, and anticipating that he might speak, I quickly placed a finger to his lips. There was to be none of his biting wit, I'd make sure of it. I kissed him again and he embraced me tightly so that our bodies were pressed together.

I'd never considered myself a particularly sexual being, and I'd venture to say he wasn't either. Certainly, _I'd_ never found myself in such a situation before. I wasn't sure I recognised myself. He was a man I knew, but equally I didn't know— I'd not found myself entirely at the mercy of my baser instincts before, but there could be no doubting what I wanted.

My mind rarely switches off, but the thoughts I had while he touched me were also no less foreign. It was a bit rushed, a bit frantic even, but considering who we were, with our shared history, there should have been awkwardness. There wasn't. He said nothing, I said nothing, and rather than awkwardness, I felt my pleasure was only enhanced at the thought the man beneath me might have two decades on me. It sounds almost mercenary, but I had not reckoned on that feeling…

And that feeling of him not being just any man, too. This was also a surprise — that I was capable of such lasciviousness.

Our past would not prove to be irrelevant, of course, but at this juncture, our re-acquaintance had overwritten much of it. Still, it was a heady mix, and one I would have cause to ponder for many times after.

We lay there in the dark afterwards, my Lumos having long been extinguished. Even after our breaths had evened out, we said nothing. I wondered if he might go to sleep; I could not have done so even if I'd wished to. My mind was busy, and I'm not sure how much time passed during my hazy contemplation of the ceiling. Of course, in all my deliberations, I naturally tried to imagine what it was he must be thinking. I was not composed enough to bring myself to ask, however.

It was as I was marshalling my senses in readiness for whatever next might follow — marshalling myself to exercise infinite poise and composure, that he broke the silence.

'Granger?'

His voice sounded low into the darkness, buffeting almost against my body so much that it felt like a ripple of warmth. I closed my eyes briefly against it.

'Yes?' I managed without any trepidation.

After a moment, I felt him shift onto his side. I moved my eyes from their study of the ceiling to make out in the dark that he was looking at me. Despite my resolve for poise, I recall tensing uneasily at what he might have to say.

But he said nothing. Instead, his fingertips gently alighted at my collarbone and I hardly dared breathe. As they slowly traced a path down my breastbone and to my stomach, my breath was forced out of me sharply. When his hand travelled down my thigh, and I felt his eyes bore into mine, I felt relief. I knew then he must have felt the connection too, and he wanted more from it.

His hand now traced warm light touches over my breast, and still he watched me. I gave no reaction; transfixed, the only movement I could manage was to breathe shallowly. To do anything else, I felt, would be to break this unknown spell between us. His fingers came back up to my neck and then, grasping my jaw, he leaned down and kissed me. I tried to return an answering pressure, but his lips were wrenched away and suddenly he was over me, his mouth re-tracing the path his fingers had only moments before. Lips at my jaw, teeth at my neck, tongue at my chest and, all the while accompanied by the soft, tantalising tickle of the ends of his hair as he moved down my body.

I thought I might combust into nothingness when he reached my inner thigh. More by reflex than design, my hands found their way into his hair and I pressed my eyes shut tightly.

How long we spent engaged thus, I couldn't say. Eventually, of course, we exhausted ourselves into sleep and further wild thoughts on my part were abruptly curtailed. When I awoke, dawn was filtering through the curtains. Comprehension was also dawning quickly and I half rose off the pillow, not quite able to believe what I'd done — what _he'd_ allowed.

To my surprise, the man himself was sat on the edge of the bed, fully clothed, and in some form of contemplation. At my stirring, he turned his head to look at me.

Much like the previous hours, there seemed, ridiculously, nothing to say. We looked at each other, and of course, he did not smile, but neither was there any sign of scorn. Ironically, that was enough to mute my initial apprehension.

'I must go,' he said simply, getting to his feet.

I nodded dumbly, trying to pull myself up without giving him an eyeful. He was taking his leave; I was grateful he'd waited, but what further would he say? He had me at an advantage for, clearly, he'd been awake for some time.

I should have known to anticipate what he did go on to say. Anyone may forgive me for assuming even Severus Snape had boundaries when it came to his pawky humour, but no, it happens he has none.

With a faint frown, he surveyed first the rumpled bedclothes, and then pointedly the length of my body right up to where I sat clutching the duvet and sporting an undoubtedly bushy fright of hair.

He grimaced slightly. 'Must have, ah, hit my head harder than I thought.'

I am quite sure my whole body flushed purple in response. My mouth fell open but no sound came out… His smirk forestalled it. I think he even laughed as he Disapparated.

I won't lie; after he disappeared, I allowed myself a rueful laugh, too.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading : )


	16. Sixteen

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Sixteen**

Following his departure I lay there for some time afterwards. There was much to think about and, in the cold light of day, of course, there was the hasty return of my brain. Still, right there and then I felt no regret — far from it, in fact. I'd got what I wanted, no more no less. We both had, I felt. What was there to regret about that?

It was as I was showering that I was brought back to reality with a dull thud. I had a Weasley Sunday lunch to attend that afternoon that I'd entirely forgotten. My elevated mood, such as it was, found it was not unduly dulled though. In fact, part of me rather perversely was looking forward to it. I found myself laughing inwardly, imagining if they could divine what I'd been up to.

Funnily, that didn't bear too much thinking about, actually.

I looked in the mirror as I combed my hair, and with interest I noted two separate marks – bruises – on my neck. I touched them lightly, examining my reflection as I did so. I could have spelled those marks to disappear, but, for whatever reason, I decided not to. I put on a polo-necked jumper instead; I didn't want anyone else to see them, of course. It would be the talk of the Burrow for weeks, otherwise.

It was an indication, perhaps, of the stagnancy I had experienced during that period of my life, that I should feel so… markedly buoyant. That I should feel so intrigued by something relatively mundane. Anyone might think I was some childish teenager in the throes of her first attraction. Truthfully, though, it really wasn't anything mundane. With anyone else it might have been, but never with him.

I doubted anything about that man could be deemed _mundane_.

I arrived at the Burrow and by this time my buoyant mood had morphed into something a little more… smug, I think. Definitely smug, as I thought about all the usual prods and pokes I would receive about my social life, and the triumph I would feel at thinking _Ha! If only you knew!_

Except, what actually happened is as soon as I set eyes on Arthur and Molly, I was alarmed to find myself blush awkwardly at only the first greeting.

'Hermione! ' Molly hugged me as she always did. 'You're looking flushed; are you well, dear?'

'Oh, I'm fine, Molly, thank you.'

'Tell me about your week.' She ordered as she bustled with pots and pans.

 _Where to start_? I thought dryly.

I found it even more alarming when Harry and Ron appeared; indeed I could hardly look them in the eye at first. What _would_ they say if they knew? I clutched uncomfortably at the neck of my jumper, with the ludicrous imagining that my night's antics might somehow be written all over my face. My cheeks burned and I hurriedly sought to empty my mind, lest they think I really was coming down with an illness.

Luckily, Harry and Ron remain as unobservant as ever. I avoided Ginny as much as I could, though, as I could not count on her being that imperceptive.

The children soon came bounding over to me, armed with all manner of toys and trinkets, for which I was grateful for something to put my mind to. I glanced somewhat ironically at little Albus Severus, thinking I could not entirely be free of reminders. Still, as the afternoon wore on, I found my equilibrium returning. So much so, that I'm sure I didn't even blink when Arthur told me there was a nice young man recently started in his department and would I like an introduction?

'Thank you, no, Arthur.'

'Leave Hermione, alone, Dad,' Ron interrupted, as per usual.

When I returned home in the early evening, and once more I was alone, that was when my thoughts started become less easy — when the initial euphoria had muted and the doubts and misgivings started to prickle uncomfortably.

Had it really been a good idea to do what I had?

I considered then that I still knew nothing of his personal circumstances. Perhaps I really had allowed myself a huge error of judgement? For all I knew he could be married with children.

That was maybe going a little too far, but the point remained the same. I had to be mindful as to who I was dealing with, and mindful also of my own situation. I should not get carried away… I should remain pragmatic and remember to be rather more circumspect in my dealings with him.

What dealings there remained, I wasn't entirely sure. I trusted he would be in touch, but who knew when he would deign to do just that? There were things that needed saying and questions I wanted to ask. And that wasn't even referring to personal dealings between us.

I wasn't sure how they would unfold, or even how I wanted them to at this juncture. Still, I was never the type to let the grass grow from under me. Why should I not take matters into my own hands? I didn't have to wait for concession from him—I was now as much a part of this as he was. We were dealing with professional poachers and we had discovered one of their hideouts. We should be looking to capitalise on that.

Admittedly, a glass of wine fortified me into sending him a note, requesting an audience. A rather short reply was not very long in coming, which somewhat surprised me. My note had gone to the Society, so obviously he was there working, presumably, on a Sunday evening. It was a small nugget, but a nugget nonetheless.

' _I will be at the Society tomorrow from noon until 5 o'clock. You may call at your leisure.'_

He hadn't even signed it; not that he needed to. His scrawl had haunted me many a night once upon a time. I sighed ruefully; clearly crossing certain boundaries with this man did not dispose him to being any less awkward — he knew I had work to attend.

I could have refused, but it would have been cutting my nose off. There was an idea I wished to discuss with him, and already too much time might have passed that it might now be too late to implement.

I decided I would have to request the afternoon off from the Ministry. I was no stranger to over-time, and so an afternoon off would not be an issue. However, the shock on my manager's face when I requested it did not go unnoticed.

'You want the afternoon off, Granger — whatever for?' His moustache quivered with surprise.

At my subsequent look, he backtracked. 'Of course, it's none of my business as to your reason, I just… It's very unlike you.'

I swallowed a huff. 'May I have the time?'

'Oh yes; certainly.'

So there it was. Not wanting to appear too keen, I only departed for Edinburgh at _two_ o'clock, and I was still in my work robes. I had determinedly decided not to pay any attention to the incident of my appearance — my reason for visiting was to be purely business-related.

Albert was at the front desk when I entered the foyer of the Soicety. 'Good afternoon, Albert,' I greeted. 'I'm here to see Mr Snape.'

'Very well, my dear,' he replied, coming out from behind the desk. 'I'll take you to him.'

I was about to remind the old man that I knew where the office was, but I soon realised he was heading in a completely different direction. Instead of the opulent central stairs, he took a smaller set that led down into the bowels of the building. At the bottom of the stairs, he paused.

'Severus is through the door on the right.'

Albert trundled back up the stairs and I looked down the corridor which was lit only by flickering lamps. I moved to knock on the door, feeling my stomach knot uncomfortably, despite my earlier resolve for professionalism.

The door was wrenched open and suddenly there he was — filling the doorway. 'Ah,' was all he said, as he stood by to let me in.

Clearly, I wasn't entirely prepared for the sight of him, for I could not quite meet his eye straightaway, and when I did, I'd failed to anticipate the sudden blast of heat in my veins. I began to think I might have been rather hasty in contacting him so soon after our… interlude.

 _He_ was visibly unruffled, of course, on the outside, but even at that early time in our acquaintance I knew outward appearance was no true indication of what was really going on underneath. I just wasn't able to interpret it very well in those days.

He was obviously brewing. There was a faint smell in the air, not unpleasant, and the sound of gently simmering liquid. The room was windowless, but far more brightly lit than the corridor had been. There were shelves upon shelves of glass bottles, flasks and phials and all manner of potions-related equipment you could imagine. There were several tables, each with cauldrons atop. There appeared to be only one cauldron he had on the go, however, as it was the only one where blue flames flickered quietly underneath it.

He walked over to it and gave the contents a few stirs.

'How is the, ah, bump on your head?' I asked politely, when I could mobilise my thoughts.

'Fine,' he responded.

Unfazed by his reticence, I continued my perusal of the room. There were a lot of books in evidence, of course, and many cupboards which I took to contain all manner of ingredients and supplied.

'Not having flashbacks, are we?' he asked suddenly.

I was lucky he was peering into the cauldron so that he entirely missed my violent flinch. At least I hoped he'd missed it.

'I'm sorry? I, ah, don't—'

He looked at me then. 'Double Potions on a Friday afternoon…'

I swallowed with relief; _those flashbacks_. I gave a weak laugh. Annoyingly, the sudden glint in his eye told me he had been fully aware of his misleading question. He returned to his cauldron and I shook my head with resignation.

I decided to perch myself on a stool, a more than respectable distance away, and allowed myself a moment of composure before I spoke.

'There's something I, ah, wanted to discuss with you,' I ventured.

I think he gave a small sigh. 'What is there to talk about?' He replied coolly. 'We're both adults, after all.'

I was immediately surprised. It was interesting that he'd now mistaken _my_ meaning. Clearly, the antics of our last meeting were not so very far from his mind, either. I considered letting him get away unscathed, but the part of me which smarted slightly at his cool indifference could not be silenced. Perhaps if he hadn't had the first satirical shot I would have let it slip.

'Actually, I was referring to matters in the Forbidden Forest…'

It was novel, certainly, to see the way his stirring faltered and to know that he must be thinking he could kick himself.

'Still, now that you've brought it up…' I continued blithely, 'I agree; there is nothing particularly to talk about. As you rightly identify, we are both adults.'

I was prepared to let that be it on the matter, for the time being. I had thought he would not want to dissect the incident between us, and I wondered if that might not serve me well too. He was correct; we were adults after all. It was a very enjoyable interlude, undoubtedly, but muddying waters between us was not the sensible thing to do when there was a task at hand to be dealt with.

'Indeed,' he said, releasing the stirring rod and turning to me. 'We are in agreement.'

He looked faintly relieved, and I wondered if he'd been entertaining thoughts of me levelling accusations as to my virtue, or perhaps worse, confessing my undying devotion.

'The reason I'm here is I want to go back to that hut in the Forbidden Forest,' I announced. 'The sooner, the better, and I wondered if you would accompany me?'

'Why do you wish to return?'

'Because it occurred to me that hut is evidence and it should be documented. By rights it should be reported to the Aurors—'

I paused at his grimace.

'At the very least it should be photographed. It is evidence that may be needed further down the line. We can't be sure if our assailants know we discovered the hut or not. If so they may seek to better cover their tracks.'

He nodded after a moment, before consulting his pocket-watch. 'Very well; but you will have to wait thirty minutes because this brew cannot be left.'

So saying, he turned back to it and picked up the stirring rod. I crossed my arms and watched.

'What are you brewing?'

'I can't tell you.'

He wasn't looking, so I rolled my eyes freely. What a surprise he was even secretive about his potions.

'Do you have any idea as to who our attackers were in the forest? And do you think they knew who we were?'

His shoulders slumped a little and I bit back a smirk. 'There will be time enough for questions, later, Granger.'

If he only knew just how many questions, I had, I thought ruefully, and many of them had nothing to do with poachers or Augureys. They were about him. What exactly did the Presiding Officer of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers _do_ , anyway? Where did he call home? Why couldn't he call me Hermione?

Why was he so…removed? Of course, I now had empirical evidence that he was not so very repressed as I might once have thought.

I would not forget that first-hand experience in a hurry.

I wondered why he had allowed physical intimacy between us. At first, it had seemed to me to be a dangerous move on his part — foolish, even. After all, a man as outwardly detached and fiercely guarded as he would surely not want to risk the open vulnerability that comes with such endeavour. Especially as I felt there had been nothing cold or even clinical about that night. _He_ had not been cold or clinical.

But studying him then, I began to see I was conflating the issue.

No doubt, in his mind he could rationalise physical intimacy as purely that, no more and no less. He might trust me enough to go that far, but ironically, as personal as that encounter was, he likely would not trust me with anything more. He must feel he has the strength of mind to maintain that line — the line between physical and emotional intimacy; the barrier that might never, ever be moved. I still wasn't entirely sure what I hoped to achieve even if I could move it.

Did it matter, either way?

Possibly, it did, I thought uncomfortably, for my own strength of mind I knew was not so resolute. I did not have his ability to be detached — it was not in my nature.

'I will be ready shortly,' he advised, rousing me from my reverie. 'Meet me around the back; I will tell Albert I'm off to London.'

I nodded and took myself off, waiting in a small rear courtyard from which we could Disapparate without the prying eyes of Muggles.

Shortly thereafter, he appeared around the back of the building with his cloak on. 'Ready?'

I nodded and moments later we were back standing on the rocky outcrop overlooking the Forbidden Forest. There was something rather different this time, however — something very incongruous.

A plume of dark smoke was rising up out of the trees.

I felt my whole body sag in disbelief.

' _Fuck_ ,' I said, looking heavenwards.

'Indeed,' was the grim response next to me.

We were clearly too late. It was obvious what was on fire — what was being destroyed. We started rushing down the path to see if there was anything that might be worth salvaging. We approached cautiously, but there was no one around, and it was evident why — the hut was already reduced to smouldering and charred embers. We used our wands to douse the flames, so they might not spread to the trees, and from there we just stared at the ruins in mute frustration. Everything within the hut was destroyed— there could be no doubt.

I looked at my companion helplessly, but he just gave a defeated little shrug.

'That's it, then,' I grumbled, giving the ground an aggravated scuff with my shoe.

Suddenly, there was the echo of a shout through the trees.

' _Is there anyone out there!'_ sounded the cry.

I gasped — I knew that voice. 'It's —'

Before I could comprehend it, a hand came up over my mouth and I was manhandled behind the trunk of a particularly large tree.

'We are not getting into a rendezvous with Hagrid!' Snape hissed.

I goggled at him, reaching up and grabbing his arm away from my face. ' _Excuse_ _me_!' I spluttered quietly. 'How dare you take such liberties with my person!'

His eyebrow quirked up sardonically. 'Sorry, my mistake — did you merely misplace your indignation the other night when I was taking far greater liberties with your _person_?'

My bottom jaw fell open and I goggled at him again. 'I can't believe you just said that.' I shook my head, willing myself not to give in to any laughter that threatened to peal.

'I wasn't going to call out to him, anyway,' I muttered obstinately, in an effort not to remember those liberties he referred to.

I don't think he heard me. His eyes were directed at my neck, and with a sinking sense of embarrassment I knew what he'd spotted. He pushed a length of my hair over my shoulder and there was a slight appraising rise of his eyebrows as he took in the marks he had left there. Haughtily, I pulled at my scarf to wrap it around my neck more tightly, so they were no longer visible.

'Proud of yourself, are you?' I questioned in a voice I'm not sure I recognised as my own.

He surveyed me at length before replying. 'You have hidden depths, Granger; they may get you into trouble one day.'

Perhaps it was a warning from him; in any case, I had no interest in heeding it. Indeed, I entirely ignored it.

'You know my name,' I stated. 'Say it.'

I'm not even sure where that came from. He would feel effrontery at being challenged, but I knew he could not fail to meet it. He did not disappoint.

' _Hermione_ ,' he said, and I was impressed, very much despite myself, because he said it with not a flicker. He knew my game; knew I was looking for him to reveal a crack or a glimmer, but his strength of composure was as impenetrable as ever.

All I knew was that he was an enigma, and he might very well talk about the hidden depths of others, but there could be hidden depths no deeper than the ones he himself was at pains to hide. Well, I would allow him his foibles.

I smiled at him, then. I smiled to show him that I was pleased, and that using my name was nothing other than a trifle. To my mind, that smile was also to show him that in matters of personal import, at least, I did not look to triumph over him in any way.

'Excellent,' I said, very much having enjoyed the pleasant ring of my own name. My expression then turned expectant as I hoped for a reciprocal concession.

What I actually received was a long-suffering scowl and a muttered:

'Call me what you like; what do I care?'

It was good enough for me, but before I could test out his name, Hagrid's voice sounded for a second time and we both glanced in its direction.

Our eyes met again and once more I failed to read the portent.

'Quick, Granger; let's go.'

With a flurry of robes, he was gone.

' _It's Hermione,'_ I resentfully ground out to no one.

* * *

AN: Thanks for the lovely comments; they always spur me on : )


	17. Seventeen

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Seventeen**

It was several hours later, following the discovery of the burning shack in the Forbidden Forest. I was back at home and he, or Severus, as I was now training myself to refer to him, had taken himself off to a 'prior engagement'. Naturally, he did not elaborate on what this engagement was, and of course, I would not have lowered myself to ask.

It didn't stop me wondering what he got up to in his spare time, though, or even in his professional time. I could count on one hand the number of personal snippets I'd gleaned about him during our recent acquaintance. The things we'd done… and yet I didn't even know where he lived. It seemed ridiculous, and part of me shrank at such impulsiveness I'd shown on my part. But, I must admit, a greater part of me secretly admired my lack of caution.

In any case, I was lying on the settee, in my dressing-gown, trying to read a novel, and had been for most of the evening. The fire crackled in the grate and my trusty wine glass was perched on the floor beside me. I don't mind admitting this was my most favourite pastime. Indeed, I could not imagine many better ways to spend my evenings — not during that part of my life, anyway.

When my tranquillity, such that it was, was interrupted by several sharp knocks on my front door, I shot upright and looked around wildly. No one ever knocked at my door. My friends nearly always used the Floo, and the only person to recently visit me unsolicited was, of course, him — Severus — the frequent object of my most roguish of thoughts.

I leapt to my feet and hurried to put the wine bottle back in the fridge and the contents of the glass down the sink. Why it should matter to me what he thought of my drinking habits, I didn't stop to contemplate. I was hardly a heavy drinker, but it seemed I was often to be found drinking in his presence.

Regretting my attire, I tugged tightly at the belt of my dressing gown and crossed to the door.

I was correct in my deduction, it was indeed he.

I opened my mouth to greet him, but he crossed over the threshold without a word.

'Good evening,' I said to the door, as I shut it.

'Look at this,' he demanded immediately, unfurling a large piece of parchment across the kitchen table.

It was his map of the British Isles that held record of our Tracking Charms. On it were the red markers that indicated the positions of the Augureys. Immediately, however, my eyes were drawn to two blue dots that were moving slowly across the country.

At my confused expression, he spoke.

'I altered the map to show the charms we used in the hut as blue markers — they've obviously taken some items away with them.'

I gaped happily, looking between him and the map. 'Well this is fantastic! This is the breakthrough we need!'

'Indeed.' I need hardly say his expression bore none of the animation mine did.

'What do we do? Should we —?'

'Granger, please,' he cut across impatiently, 'they're still moving; we're not going after them tonight.'

I huffed silently and folded my arms. 'I quite fancied a jaunt across the country in my pyjamas, you know.'

He entirely ignored my sarcasm, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't put out whenever he did that. He did it too often, I thought, resentfully. He set about folding up the map, and my eyes were drawn to his hands as he did so. I suddenly felt rather self-conscious standing there in my dressing gown. I also rather wished I'd kept the wine to hand for fortification.

'We need to exercise caution,' he continued, unaware of my inner ramblings, 'especially after what happened in the Forbidden Forest. We shall wait a few days and then we shall attempt to pinpoint the location. From there, we will proceed with foresight and forethought. '

'Very well,' I replied, unable to find a flaw in that plan.

'Do you have a broom?'

'A broom?'

'Yes, Granger; one of those wooden implements we use to propel ourselves through the sky.'

I scowled. 'Thank you, Severus; I know what a broom is. I meant why do I need one?'

I took pleasure in his little wince at my addressing of him.

'Well, unless you have managed to visit every single town and village in this country, whilst retaining an almost photographic memory of them, we will not be able to Apparate to wherever our quarry may be.'

Ah, I thought.

'I'm not one of your first-year dunderheads, you know,' I muttered, wondering now whether to return to the fridge for my wine bottle. 'Anyway, I have a car we can use.'

It was one thing floating through the trees, but the thought of zooming across the sky at speed, for miles, made my stomach twitch.

'A _car_?'

'Yes; what's wrong with a car?'

He said nothing, just shook his head as if he despaired of me.

'I don't have a broomstick, so, unless you have one we can share, I suggest we take the car.'

Ha! He couldn't ignore that one. I had to look away and bite my lip as his countenance drained at the thought of us sharing a broom. I never knew I had it in me to be so droll. Obviously he brought it out in me, but I was beginning to enjoy the triumph of a well delivered remark perhaps a little too much, if the glare I was receiving was anything to go by.

There was something else, then, that I could see in his expression too, something very suspicious and I found myself smiling despite myself.

'You were actually considering calling my bluff weren't you!'

I started laughing at his subsequent smirk. I tried to imagine what on earth I would have said if he had agreed to flying together.

'I've seen your gauche flying style, Granger; I thought about it, but it could not be borne.'

' _Gauche_ ,' I scoffed with no real outrage. 'That was the only reason, was it?' I raised my eyebrows.

It was his turn to scoff. 'You think a lot of yourself, don't you?'

I laughed resignedly and flipped up the palms of my hands. 'I give up.' I said, amused. 'You win.'

'No change there then.'

A little smirk played about his mouth as he placed his map within his robe. I was quickly becoming fond of that particular smirk. It was not quite a smile, but there was something almost shy about it, or perhaps, secretive was more apt. He was not a shy man by any stretch of the imagination, but secretive, by Merlin, he wrote the book on being that.

'I will bid you a good evening,' he proclaimed.

'Oh — you don't have to go.'

 _He_ was surprised, but so was I. The words had tripped out before I could temper them. Neither was I sure exactly what I was entreating him to stay for.

'I don't think that's a good idea.'

'Why?' I blurted, feeling my stomach sink at his frankness.

He shrugged his shoulders with a frown, and for a man who usually expressed himself with rather too much eloquence at times, I found this unusual.

'I like your company,' I stated plainly, feeling this was something I could admit without fearing I would regret it.

I looked for it, but his expression did not flicker. 'I think, perhaps, you spend too much time on your own, Granger.'

I felt myself go cold at that, but only because I had conceived that particular thought about myself before. He was a little too observant at times; because whilst I indulged often in introspection, I wasn't accustomed to hearing the observations of others. There was no particular bite to his tone, I was relieved to hear, and so I swallowed any indignation.

'Your point?' I asked plainly, as he turned to leave.

His eyes widened imperceptibly as he halted in his tracks. I expected he thought I would refute the point, but why should I? He was right, I did spend much time alone, but I failed to see the relevance in this instance.

He tried a different tack. 'Our association is to solve the matter of the Augureys, Granger. Let us not make it into anything more than it is. Once it is done, there will be little reason for us to ever cross paths again.'

'I see… You have no need for friends, do you, Severus?'

I was starting to walk on thin ice. I could tell it by the way his eyes hardened to granite and the way he rounded on me. I fancied he might now be regretting the moment he ever let me touch him, and what he'd subsequently unleashed, because it was clear that night together had entirely undone any restraint I had toward him.

'That is all I would like,' I clarified, 'for us to be friends.'

I found it difficult to maintain his hard stare in the end, so I occupied myself by crossing over to the sink. I thought about putting the kettle on, but in the end, I threw caution to the wind and refilled my hastily disposed of wine glass.

'I'll not be your friend,' he remarked coldly, after a pause.

I fought not to flinch at these words; indeed, I endeavoured to match his air of detachment as much as I could — outwardly, of course. Internally my courage started to quail, but I marshalled it before it deserted me.

'What will you be, then?' I asked. 'What were you the other night?'

It was a daring route for me to take, but being direct with him had served me well in the past. It proved to be true here, too, only somewhat indirectly. Suddenly, his ire seemed to dissipate and, instead, his look became more impatient. To my surprise, he approached me, whereupon he took my wine glass from me and filled it up further. Then, he tipped a large gulp of it down his throat.

It was several moments before he spoke. 'You are a remarkable woman, Hermione; let's just leave it at that.'

So saying he set the glass down with a clink and then he was gone. I couldn't have stopped him — I was left mute. I felt stupidly deafened by his words. They seemed to echo all around me, and yet, I could barely comprehend them.

 _Remarkable_.

I'd never paid this particular adjective much thought before, indeed, in some ways, ironically, it was rather... unremarkable. But in that moment, in the context of him, I thought it the most beautiful word in the world. I could have floated, so pleased did I feel. He thought I was "remarkable"... I felt my whole body abuzz with pleasure.

However, his other words soon started filtering back through the haze and my light heartedness transposed itself slowly into a heavy weight. I had to remind myself that there could be no assumptions made... I'd already found out the hard way that what that man said and did could not always be reconciled.

The next few days seemed to drag inexorably. I was increasingly finding my concentration wavering, although, I always aimed to uphold my conscientiousness. But I found my thoughts wandered often to where we would end up tracking down those items taken from the poachers' hut. They wandered to Severus Snape, trying and failing to fathom him out. They wandered to the term remarkable rather too often, as well.

'Granger!' called out my boss, suddenly.

I got to my feet and stuck my head around the door to his office. 'Yes?'

'I need you to get over to St. Mungo's straightaway. I sent a team over to deal with an infestation of chizpurfles and by all accounts they've made a right pig's ear of it.'

I considered refusing. I'd done my time in pest control when I'd first started in the department, as everyone did. However, I'd progressed beyond such menial tasks, until of course the events of recent months.

As I considered the old man behind his desk, with his quivering moustache and grizzled hair, I found I could no longer be bothered to argue.

He was right, it was chaos when I got there. I found my colleagues high up in the hospital, in the roof space where the chizpurfles had started attacking all manner of old magical equipment.

I didn't miss the sour looks that passed between certain people when my presence became known.

'Have you been using magic in here?' I demanded. 'You know you can't do that with chizpurfles — we will have to lift everything the Muggle way!'

I fought not to sigh as I started assisting them in pulling out dusty equipment, chests, cupboards and all manner of items in order to get the chizpurfle repellent in every corner. It took ages, indeed, several hours passed before we were finally able to seal the area in the hope everything had been contained, and there was little risk of the whole hospital becoming infested, I leant against a wall and closed my eyes.

Was this really all I was good for, I wondered?

I was the last to climb down the ladder back into the building proper. I let my colleagues trudge off without me; it had long since passed five o'clock so there was no point returning to the Ministry. I waved a charm over me to remove all manner dust and cobwebs from my hair and robes. I was looking forward to heading home when a voice called out.

'Hermione!'

It was Neville, returning from visiting his parents. 'Neville!' I beamed happily.

Neville had been one of the few people to have supported my ecological survey at the outset and I hadn't seen him since it had been shelved. We walked together to the Leaky Cauldron, and after the day I'd had, I was hoping to Apparate straight home, but when he suggested we have a drink, I found I didn't have it in me to refuse.

'I'm starting a new job at St Mungo's soon,' he announced happily.

Of course, I was immensely pleased for him — wholeheartedly — and I congratulated him. However, there was also a voice in the back of my mind telling me that I might now have found a useful connection to have. I was thinking of the future enquiries that might have to be directed towards the hospital if I continued my work beyond the matter of the Augureys.

'How's life in Level 4?' he asked with a commiserating smile.

'They're piling me up with the basics,' I groaned, twisting the stem of my glass with my fingers. 'Trying to keep me out of trouble.'

'Is it really dead in the water, then? I saw it all in the _Prophet_ , of course.'

'For the time being, yes,' I answered vaguely. I felt a little awkward dissembling about it.

'You'll get there, Hermione; I've always admired your determination. '

I smiled appreciatively. 'Thanks, Neville.'

I felt very warm inside suddenly, but I wasn't thinking of Neville, or even what he had said. The word _remarkable_ was reverberating ominously around my brain.

He drained his glass and smiled. 'You've never been afraid to go and get what you want.'

I hoped my cheeks did not heat up too much at those words.

When he took his leave, I gave him a hug and promised to speak to him soon. I reached for my bag and scarf, and as I flicked my hair over my shoulder, I happened to spot something else I wanted. He could only have just walked in and I froze as our eyes met. I flung my bag over my shoulder and stepped over to him.

'Fancy seeing you in here, Severus,' I observed. 'Not stalking me, I hope?'

'Trust me, Granger, if I were stalking you then you would be the last person to know about it.'

I bit my lip. 'That's a bit alarming, actually.'

He lifted his shoulders, unbothered. 'Recruiting Longbottom to your cause already, are you?'

'Why do you say that?'

'His new role at St Mungo's, of course.'

He had to make me ask, of course. 'How do _you_ know he's going to be working there?'

'I have my ways and means,' he replied enigmatically.

I shook my head wearily. He was infuriating, but I wasn't going to humour him by pressing the matter. 'Speaking of St. Mungo's, I have had a piss-poor day. I have spent the afternoon up in the roof of St Mungos fighting chizpurfles. I feel like I may even have swallowed one'. I grimaced.

'Ah, I wondered what was crawling through your hair...'

I squeaked and flicked at my hair. Too late did i spot the gleam of amusement in his eyes.

I sighed. 'I _will_ hex you one day, you know.'

'I'll be waiting.'

I shook my head in defeat. 'Have you looked at the map recently? Where are we likely to be travelling this weekend?'

'The last I checked they were stationary somewhere in Gloucestershire.' He glanced around our vicinity to see whether there was anyone nearby, then he pulled out the parchment. He didn't unfold it fully, only so much that the bottom of the country was on display.

'They've moved again,' I mused, finding the county of Gloucestershire free of markings.

I scanned further along, until my eyes alighted on the blue dots, which were now as a stop in Wiltshire.

'Can you expand the area?' I urged quickly.

He tapped his wand and the map zoomed in on itself. The blue markers now hovered over a small village in the middle of the county. I felt my blood freeze, and for a moment I could only stare.

There was a low mutter of ' _fuck'_ as he stuffed the parchment back into his robe. I stared at him now with wide eyes and he took hold of my upper arm.

'Let's go,' he said, as I dumbly allowed myself to be directed outside.

When we reached the courtyard behind the pub, I felt my brain judder into action. 'It might just be a coincidence…'

It was quite obvious from his expression that Severus Snape did not believe in coincidences. To be entirely frank, I didn't either.

'Apparate us outside of the house,' he instructed. 'Just in case.'

I nodded, and swallowing a lump of dread, I Apparated us into the front garden. It was immediately apparent it was no coincidence. There, propped up against my own doorstep, were two rickety old broomsticks.

Brooms that we both knew were from that hut we'd discovered in the Forbidden Forest.

When my companion took a step forward, I immediately shot out a hand to forestall him. 'They could be inside…'

' _Good_ ,' he stated, shaking my arm off to continue onward.

'Wait!' I hissed, catching his arm again. 'It's _my_ house, I'm going in first.'

His face twisted with impatience. 'For the love of… Really, Granger; we're going to do this now, are we?'

'Yes,' I snapped, pushing on in front of him with my wand poised.

I heard a low grumble, but he let me proceed. The house was shrouded in darkness, of course, and I could sense that my Locking charms were intact. We halted at the front door and considered the brooms. There appeared to be no jinxes on the broom, but nevertheless, we both aimed _Finite_ _Incantatem_ spells at them to be sure. I pushed open the door and illuminated every single light I could think of.

The house was small; it took no time to establish that we were alone. Severus went to check around the back, whilst I sank onto the settee and contemplated my hands. He returned with a shake of his head.

'It was just a message,' he observed.

I tugged my hand through my hair and sighed deeply with frustration. 'Well, message received loud and clear.'

So, they obviously had recognised me at least in the Forbidden Forest. But what about my partner in crime? I thought. What 'message' were they likely to send _him_?

I leapt to my feet and spelled the kettle to boil, feeling all manner of emotions – fear, frustration, disappointment, and yes, determination.

'The question is, what message to do we send in reply?' I mused.

I looked to my companion, but he only shook his head, as if unsure.

All I knew was that it was going to take rather more than two rickety broomsticks to put _me_ off.

* * *

AN: Thanks for the reviews : )


	18. Eighteen

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Eighteen**

'Do you have somewhere else you could stay tonight?'

I was marginally surprised to find him still sitting at the kitchen table, but I was even more surprised by his words.

I paused in the combing of my hair. 'Why should I stay elsewhere; I thought we'd decided it was merely a message?'

Following the initial frustration of discovering those brooms at my door, I'd resolved to think no more on it. Not until I had washed the dirt and grime I felt still clung to me from my encounter with St. Mungo's oldest and finest cobwebs, at least. And not least until I'd imbibed a headache powder, too.

I'd left him to it — left him to a cup of coffee and his thoughts — while I went to shower. I'd fully expected that he might be gone by the time I returned, but had felt too wrung out to try and ensure otherwise. Yet, there he was, obviously still contemplating.

'True,' he replied, 'but we don't know precisely who we are dealing with.'

I sighed at length. 'Well, perhaps you'd like me to turn up on Harry's doorstep and explain everything to him?'

I need not recount the expression he pulled at that. I picked up my comb again, thinking there was no way on earth I was being pushed out of my own home.

'Can you not stay with your parents?'

I froze. There it was finally, the reference I always sought to avoid. My throat closed with dread, and I felt I should have anticipated this angle,or at least prepared myself for it.

'No,' I replied carefully, 'my parents live in Australia.'

When no further comment was forthcoming I ploughed on hurriedly. 'I'll be fine, anyway. I'll not play the scared little girl for their benefit.'

Hair attended to, I went to curl up on the settee in front of the fire, feeling unutterably irritated. After a moment, I was aware of him looming nearby and I caught the mild indecision on his face.

' _You're_ not obliged to stay,' I said with a laugh.

He sat at the other end of the settee, but did not look at me. 'It doesn't seem right not to.'

'Think I need a man to look after me, do you?'

His eyebrows shot up and I immediately felt churlish. 'Sorry, I'm just being facetious. Of course, you may stay if you wish to.'

Even in my irritated state my mind easily recalled back to his previous overnight stay. I studied his profile and did feel grateful for his consideration, even if it was, perhaps, unwarranted. Still, it was another nugget that might do well to be analysed at a later time. I turned my gaze back to the flames and let my head rest against the cushions, feeling that the ensuing silence wasn't too awkward. It's not often I'm at a loss, but right then was one of the few times when I couldn't think of anything to say to him.

I was fed up. Uncomfortably, I was beginning to think that it was a fool's errand we'd set ourselves, and I thought if we failed to achieve anything, I would be stuck hunting chizpurfles for longer than I might have expected. In turn, these thoughts made me feel selfish. The reason I'd set out on this task had not been for personal gain… At least, that's what I'd told myself. It seemed now that in many ways I was only concerned how this would unfold and impact on myself.

As my thoughts fluttered hither and thither, I came to realise that he was watching me. When I broke my stare into the fire, he cleared his throat and asked the question for which I thought I'd had a reprieve.

'Why do your parents live in Australia, Hermione?'

My mouth dried out entirely at that quietly delivered query. I did not fail to note his crafty use of my name, either. I pulled myself up, crossing my legs under me and folding my arms.

'Why do you want to know about them for?' I enquired in what I hoped was a light tone.

He didn't reply; he just continued to watch me until I felt I had to look away. I thought about fobbing him off with some banal tale of how they'd wanted to live the high life — to chase the dream of a better life under the Australian sun. I doubt he would have believed it, but that would have been his prerogative. He could not have failed to notice how I never mentioned them, yet he could hardly criticise _my_ reticence when his own was practically tangible about him.

To fob him off, though, was to deny my part in the story, and that was not something I could ever be comfortable with. I considered he probably knew nothing of my parents, other than that they existed, and so I would have to start with the biggest mistake of my life. I felt my pulse quicken as I sought to find the words. There was only one way to do it — quickly and succinctly.

'In the summer before we set off to look for the Horcruxes, to protect my parents from Voldemort, I Obliviated them and sent them to live in Australia.'

I didn't dare look to see his reaction; I spoke more to the fire than to him.

'Of course, that is how I justified it to myself, except there were rather more selfish reasons, too. They would not have let me go gallivanting around the country; they would not have let me go back to Hogwarts had they known truth.'

I forced myself to look at him then.

'I never told them half of what went on. I never told them about the danger we were in — the danger Harry was in. So, when the time came, I knew they would not understand… As much as I wanted to protect them, I also, selfishly, wanted to be able to do what I wanted, with no worry or thought as to their safety.'

I paused for a breath; his expression was unreadable.

'When it was all over, and I went to them to remove the _Oblivate_ , well, it…'I broke off shaking my head. 'It was obvious I had made a mistake. They were angry and confused, and very, very hurt. They saw it as though I'd taken advantage of them, which, I couldn't argue with.'

I bit my lip, feeling the tell-tale burn behind the eyes. I got to my feet, feeling that I might do better to prevaricate. I stoked the logs on the fire before continuing.

'They forgave me, in the end, of course, but we none of us can forget.' I felt myself smile sardonically. 'They wanted to stay in Australia — I think they saw it as their only opportunity to take back control of the situation.'

I hadn't heard him move, but he was there standing before me. He took the poker from my hand that I was uselessly holding.

'We're not estranged,' I continued. 'They visit, and I've been to see them in Australia. It's just not quite the same anymore.'

My voice caught over the last words and one errant tear managed to spring free. Before I could react, his hand appeared and his thumb brushed it away. I nearly shied away at the subsequent tingle, but, in any case, he dropped his hand as quickly as it had come.

'It's fine; I miss them very much of course…' I swiped a hand at my face and tried a watery smile.

He did not say anything, which in turn made me uneasy. 'Well?' I prompted. 'Was it not a terrible abuse of my power?'

Still he didn't answer straightaway. 'I... don't know what to say,' he eventually said softly, 'except maybe to say that I am sorry.'

Too preoccupied with my own shame, I'd failed to notice the clouds descend across his countenance.

'What have you to be sorry for?'

'If it were not for people like me, you would not have had to do what you did.'

He turned away slightly, rubbing both hands over his face, before dragging them roughly through his hair with a frustrated sigh.

'If it were not for people like me... You know I could finish that sentence in any number of ways, Hermione. There are many who are paying the price for choices that I have made.'

I was speechless; for many reasons, my brain and voice seemed both to have deserted me. Everything suddenly seemed very blurry. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but I could not find any words. I don't know if I'd expected recrimination from him, but if I had expected anything, I had not expected this regret.

He would not look at me now. His hair fell forward obscuring the side of his face, and I longed to move it and tell him any number of things that I felt, except, I didn't know where to start.

'Nothing happens in a vacuum,' I found myself saying finally. 'There's nothing to say that we wouldn't have ended up in the same place had _you_ made different choices _._ It is not on your decisions alone, Severus, that Voldemort did the things that he did. How could it be?'

I shrugged my shoulders helplessly.

' _I_ made the decision to _Obliviate_ my parents and I made that decision alone. Regardless of how I came to be in that situation, I still had a choice, ultimately.' I shook my head vehemently. 'I don't hold _you_ responsible for that.'

We neither of us said anything for a time. I considered how much the War and its effects still lingered. I was by turns touched at his regret for the state of my relations with my parents, but saddened as well, that he felt he bore responsibility for it. I had before me, also, the moment I had longed for; the moment where he might allow a glimpse of who he really was. Yet, faced with it, along with everything else that had gone on that day, I didn't know what to do with it — how to capitalise on it.

It seemed there was much to be said, actually, for the security of sarcastic jibes and comments.

There was one thing I did want to know. 'Do you think I made the right decision?' I asked quietly.

He finally returned his gaze to me, and I was pleased to see the re-emergence of his usual sardonicism. 'Come now, Granger, we've already established my judgement is suspect…'

I gave him a wan smile. 'Has it not improved with time?'

He shrugged his shoulders, frowning, and once more his eyes darted away. It seemed to me such a downhearted gesture that, instinctively, I closed the space between us and took one of his hands in both of mine. If he had not subsequently closed his fingers around mine, I might not have gone on to say what I did. Certainly, I would not have said it had my breath failed to catch in my throat when his expression became searching.

That he might set store by my opinion of him sent a powerful thrum through my veins. I never could have anticipated such a thing following our first meeting those few weeks ago —it would never have computed. Now, it pleased me unequivocally, and disposed me to boldness.

'If you are in want of guidance, I can advise you of one decision that might now serve you well.'

'What's that?' he whispered, a tad warily.

'That you kiss me.'

He looked mildly incredulous. I think I was vaguely thrown by my impetuousness, too, but it seemed like the right thing to do. So much for not muddying the water between us, but I felt it was pointless, if not impossible, to ignore the connection between us.

After a pause, he began shaking his head.

'I can't do that.' He started trying to extricate his hand, but I held on defiantly.

'Why not?

His eyes closed impatiently. 'I am not worthy… You deserve better for —'

' _Worthy_?' I interrupted loudly. 'You felt _worthy_ enough the other night…'

' _No_ — that was different. I told you, I was concussed.'

My jaw fell open, and not entirely in mock outrage, either. He closed his mouth to prevent any further words and the gleam was back in his eyes with a vengeance.

'Right, where is my wand?' I demanded feeling laugher bubbling.

He leaned down swiftly and pressed a kiss at my lips. I reflexively loosened my grip on his hand and both of his came up to my neck. He held my face there for several moments. That brief contact seemed to undo much of my irritation and the tension within me eased.

'The point is these hands, Hermione,' he murmured, when he pulled back and let the hands in question rest on my shoulders. 'Do you not think you deserve to be touched by better hands than mine?'

 _Cleaner hands_ , I thought, is what he meant.

For once, his expression appeared entirely earnest. I considered my options. I didn't want to make too light of the situation, as it was obviously a concern for him, but by the same token, it really wasn't a concern for me.

I cleared my throat. 'Well, why don't you touch me and then I'll let you know?'

There was a brief flash of disbelief, it seemed to me, that stole across his features. I don't blame him, I could hardly comprehend my own brazenness, but I held my nerve as I looked at him — to show that I was entirely serious.

I was beginning to think his self-control might prove too much of a match for me when, finally, he reached out and tugged the belt of my dressing gown loose. Then he pushed it from my shoulders so that it fell to the floor. His arm curled about my waist and pulled me to him, so that we were touching.

I felt as though, somehow, I had known we would end up back here — together. Despite any words he had spoken on the matter, I think in the back of my mind there had been an inevitability about it. I wondered if it had been in his mind, too.

'Mark me,' he spoke in a warning whisper. 'This will not end well.'

I was pressed up against him with the palm of his hand burning through to my skin — I easily ignored those words and kissed him instead.

It was only later, _after_ , did his words return to me. This time was different, of course; I was not so paralysed with bewilderment that I could not bring myself to speak.

I twisted onto my side and propped my head up on my elbow. 'Severus?'

He put a hand over his face. 'Merlin, Granger; give it five minutes, will you? I'm not a performing monkey.'

I spluttered loudly at him. Then I quickly rolled over to lean over the edge of the bed.

'What on earth are you doing?'

'Finding my wand… Someone needs putting in their place.'

I can't quite bring myself to say what he did next. I should have foreseen it, but I truly did not expect his foot to reach out and nudge me so that I nearly fell onto the floor. I squealed and had to put my hand out to brace myself.

'You git!' I admonished, moving back to safety.

'Sorry,' he admitted, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

I resorted to shaking my head with a few exasperated chuckles. 'We're supposed to be on the alert for anyone lurking about, you know.'

'Well, I'm sure this tableau would be enough to send them running.'

I allowed myself a smile as I stuffed my wand under my pillow, before settling back down onto it. There was a candle lit in the room, which allowed enough light in which for me to study him. Something which I had not had opportunity for last time, either.

He sat up and reached over for something out of his robe. I felt my eyes roll as a liquorice wand appeared. Feeling it was time for me to fully engage in our tit for tat routine, I, as quick as lightning, snatched the wand from his hand and threw it across the room. It hit the door with a satisfying thump.

His eyes slowly moved from his empty hand to glare at me. 'I can just as easily Summon it back to me.'

'I don't like liquorice,' I said simply, smiling up at him.

'Forgive me, I'm supposed to care about this why…?'

'I'm just saying… It might put me off, later…'

A thoughtful expression formed on his face, then he lifted his hand and a fistful of liquorice wands suddenly whizzed into his grasp. 'It's lucky for me I brought all these, then.'

I closed my eyes and pressed my face into the pillow, not wanting to give him the pleasure of my amusement. I'm sure the shaking of my shoulders gave enough away, however. 'I give up,' I announced ruefully, when I could speak. I sat up, biting my lip, and I shuffled purposefully away from him. 'I can't compete with this.' I allowed myself a smile when I faced away from him, not too disappointed that I clearly had a long way to go to match his humour.

Of course, there were still victories to be had. There was no sound of any sweets being unwrapped, after all, and after a moment or two he shifted across to touch my shoulder.

'I apologise,' he murmured. 'It was too easy. _You_ are too… easy.'

I spun onto my back to look up at him open-mouthed. At his air of studied nonchalance, I raised my eyebrows.

'Only because _you_ are a bad influence on me!'

I could see immediately it wasn't quite right the right path to have taken, for a shadow stole across his features in place of any humour.

He inclined his head in a gesture of agreement. 'I think there may also be a softening of the brain to contend with, too.'

The accompanying smirk seemed a little half-hearted, in my opinion, and I decided to choose my next words more carefully.

'Can't I just be attracted to you?'

Eventually he nodded, his hand coming to stroke small indiscriminate patterns on my stomach. I felt my pulse quicken as other parts of my body tensed in the hope they might also soon be touched.

He remained serious, however, and instinctively, I felt myself braced for his next move.

'You know this is all there can ever be between us, don't you, Hermione?'

I was not unduly surprised, nor disappointed. Indeed, I don't think I even blinked as he watched for my reaction.

Perhaps it wasn't the right context in which to have had this particular conversation. In hindsight it seems so. Not while his light ministrations continued, and not while he was close enough that I could feel the heat of him radiate over me. This isn't to say I felt manipulated into my answer in any way — it was quite obvious to me that he felt no real confidence in his effect on me. That was something entirely new to him.

But I would hardly say I was at my most objective.

I felt I didn't even need him to elaborate on his reasoning. I had not entertained thoughts of a relationship with him. That much had seemed even to me outlandish at that time. It wasn't even to consider the wider implications of how it might be perceived by others, it was more my own personal circumstances, and his too, whatever they were.

Yes, I had spent much time on my own, but it wasn't to assume, as others did, that I broke my heart over it. It frustrated me at times, but it did not preclude that it also didn't suit me.

He was an incongruity in my existence and I enjoyed the uniqueness of it, without exception. To consider it as anything more would be to ignore the almost unfathomable nature of his character, and indeed, the unseen, but ever-present spectre of his past. Perhaps even to ignore mine as well.

So, when I told him that yes, I expected nothing more, I felt I wanted nothing more. The physical response I had to him, the novelty of his company, would fade to something less difficult to ignore. To be gained were simple moments of companionship and yes, pleasure, without hurting anyone. And then maybe we might be friends, which was only as much as I'd ever allowed myself to want.

Of course, the naiveté of us both seems ludicrous now.

He can say what he likes, but I was not the only insufferable know-it-all in this story. The coming together of two know-it-alls should, probably, have led to unparalleled heights of intelligence and wisdom of thought.

Yet, in our case, we appeared to cancel each other out, until what remained could only be described as something that looked an awful lot like stupidity.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading : )


	19. Nineteen

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Nineteen**

I'm not sure I had ever written up an incident report with so much light-heartedness before. Naturally, it was not the chizpurfles that made me light of heart. Still, it was all pervading. I might have smiled a tad too widely at the boss the other morning; certainly, I felt he'd done a double-take as I'd walked into the office a tad tardily, too.

He could throw as many chizpurfles at me as he wanted, I felt.

Of course, the potency of my cheeriness diminished somewhat as the days ticked over and my stomach dropped slightly when he ordered that I supervise a de-gnoming at the garden of an elderly witch who could no longer manage the task herself.

 _Supervise_ , I thought to myself with derision.

I watched his retreat and felt sure that one day, somehow, I would have the last laugh.

We travelled out to a small village in East Sussex via Portkey. The old lady greeted us warmly with offers of tea and biscuits, respectfully declined, of course. I will admit to enjoying this aspect of the job — that is, getting out from the office and meeting people. There was a lot to be said for the variety one could experience.

During my first few de-gnoming tasks I had tried to engage the gnomes in friendly discourse to see if they might not leave quietly, rather than have to swing them about and throw them— something I, even now, struggle to accept. The only things I achieved, however, were to become a laughing stock amongst my colleagues and to gain a scar across my palm where one gnome bit me.

Sometimes, on these visits, people would recognise me. I think they often looked at me as though I'd fallen on hard times, but I have to work, I always told them with a smile. People have short memories, mind, and in the ten years or so after the end of the war, it was mentioned to me less and less.

Mrs Sedgwick of East Sussex, recognised me for a rather different reason, however.

As I surveyed the garden, with a view to advising her how best she might prevent the gnomes from returning, she approached me.

'Hermione Granger, you said your name was, didn't you, dear?'

I smiled at her. 'I did.'

'Did I see your name in the _Daily_ _Prophet_ some weeks ago?'

I felt my interest piqued now. 'That is correct — I was involved with a study into the magical flora and fauna in this country.'

She nodded. 'I thought so. I wrote a letter to your department three weeks ago in response. I had an acknowledgement letter telling me it would be looked into, but I have heard nothing since. I wonder if you know anything?'

'What was your correspondence regarding?' I asked kindly.

'It was about the goings on in there.' She pointed to woodland that bounded one side of her garden. 'I first noticed them several months ago — spotted them by chance from my upstairs window. Two men carrying something. I thought nothing of it, until I saw them again. I go to sleep early, you see, dear, and I often wake up in the early hours. I make myself a cuppa and then drift back off. Every two weeks, usually on a Sunday, I see them.'

I glanced over to my colleagues, to ensure they were not within earshot.

'They are not Muggles?'

'No,' she shook her head vehemently. 'They carry brooms, sometimes. They use their wands to light the way, too.'

'And what makes you think it is something we should look into?'

'I hear them wailing — the Augureys. I thought they only did that when it rains.'

She wasn't entirely correct on that score, but nevertheless, it was an intriguing point, and any lead was worth following.

'Mrs Sedgwick, if you would like to give me the details, I will ensure it is looked into.'

Before we departed, she pressed into my hand a piece of parchment which detailed the date and time of the sightings of the suspicious men. There was only one thing I could think of to do with this information and that was, naturally, to share it with my associate.

That evening, after leaving the Ministry, I Apparated to Edinburgh. The door to the Society was unlocked, but the reception desk in the foyer was empty. I thought about waiting to see if anyone would materialise, but then settled on simply taking my chances. I rushed up the stairs, hoping to avoid an encounter with anyone other than Severus Snape. I paused outside his door to listen for any sounds of talking within. There was none, so I rapped on the door sharply and held my breath.

The handle clicked and I pushed the door open. He was sat at his desk scratching at some parchment with a quill. His eyebrows lifted slightly when he saw it was me and his quill ceased its movement. At the sight of him I felt myself smile inwardly.

I came to a stop in front of his desk and waited expectantly.

'Well?' he prompted at my silence, leaning back in his chair.

I felt my eyes narrow suspiciously. 'I'm just waiting for a sarcastic comment regarding my hasty and unannounced visit so soon after our last… meeting.'

He made as if to speak, but I held up my hand to forestall him.

'Wait… I'll do it for you.' I considered for a moment. 'Couldn't get enough so you're back for more already, are you, Granger?'

He has the deadpan expression down to a fine art, so I could not tell whether he was amused or not. Eventually, he frowned slightly and said blithely:

'I think you may have me confused with someone else.'

I had to concede that one to him, yet again. I pulled out the chair with a resigned chuckle. 'Well, the actual reason for my visit tonight is business, not… you know…'

'Pleasure,' he helpfully supplied, no doubt trying to further extricate the blush that I felt warming my cheeks.

I gave him a look as I reached into my robe for the parchment off Mrs Sedgwick. I unfolded it, placed it before him, and proceeded to explain what the old lady had told me.

'Friston Forest was not part of my sample, but there is no reason why there could not be Augureys living within it.'

He nodded thoughtfully. 'I have not been in that forest, either. Presumably, you wish to place tracking charms within it?'

'Possibly... But also, I thought we might make use of Mrs Sedgwick's garden…'

There was an indecisive look on his face.

'According to Mrs Sedgwick's observations, they could be due to visit this Sunday morning.'

He pushed some of his hair away from his face and contemplated for several moments. 'To what end? After the debacle in the Forbidden Forest we need to be more careful.'

I nodded in agreement. 'I don't want any confrontation, of course, but what if there's a chance of identifying someone?'

He didn't look particularly convinced. 'And this Mrs Sedgwick — she is agreeable to this?'

'I believe she will be, yes.'

'Fine; but don't bring my name into this. I'll just remain a nameless colleague.'

I nodded equably, feeling the thrill of the chase come upon me once more. I noticed he was watching me rather appraisingly so I folded my arms defensively in readiness.

'Something you would like to add?'

'What if Mrs Sedgwick accidentally lets slip to the Ministry about your extra-curricular activity?'

'I've told her to contact me in the future, if she has any concerns… I admit it's a risk, but it's one I'm willing to take.'

Before he could reply, we were interrupted by a tapping at the window. The window cracked open and in hopped an owl bearing a missive. It was dropped onto the desk, following which the owl swooped off.

Even I could see the Hogwarts wax seal from where I was sat.

He snatched up the letter and, after glancing at the handwriting on the envelope, he gave a dismal sigh. 'What does she want now?' he murmured as he ripped it open.

' _Merlin_ ,' he continued, scanning the parchment, before flicking it derisively at me. 'Minerva is one hundred years old.'

I felt my eyebrows rise as I picked up the letter. It was an invitation to celebrate the moment of her one hundred years.

'No doubt you have received one?'

I shook my head. 'Not that I'm aware… Although I haven't been home yet.'

'Well, never fear,' he commented dryly. 'I can assure you the guest list will almost exclusively be golden Gryffindors.'

There was something of a faraway look on his face.

I tilted my head thoughtfully. 'One wonders, then, how it is _you_ came to be on such an illustrious list?'

I received a glare, which I was supremely satisfied with.

He also tilted his head thoughtfully. 'Of course, some of her former Gryffindor charges are not quite so… _luminous_ , anymore.'

His look was pointed and I wasn't sure what he was getting at, until he actually started chuckling to himself — a low quiet laugh, but more of a real laugh than I had ever heard from him.

'Poor Minerva would never see much further beyond her one hundred years if she knew what you'd been up to, Granger.'

Immediately, my cheeks lit up and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. The look on his face was one of fond imagining.

His shoulders shook with a few more moments of amusement. 'Actually, this event could prove to be quite entertaining.'

'You wouldn't tell her?' I blurted out incredulously.

'Oh, but I thought we might arrive together?'

At the false innocence he was displaying I turned away with a resigned shake of the head. 'You are hard work, do you know that?'

He only looked pleased at that, I noted ruefully.

Despite myself, I found myself hoping there was not a grain of truth buried within his words. I could not fail to remember that he had a vindictive streak. Not to mention the enjoyment I thought he took in being somewhat of a divisive character.

He knew the direction of my thoughts.

'Relax, Granger — who would ever believe me?'

I felt myself smile at that. 'True,' I concurred.

'You may rely on my discretion. It may be yours, however, that is found wanting.' He picked up his quill to continue with whatever it was that I'd interrupted him doing. 'Confirm Mrs Sedgwick's permission and I'll see you Saturday night.'

Summarily dismissed, I got to my feet. I thought about telling him to call by whenever he wanted, but I hesitated over it too long. I wondered if I would sound a little too eager. Truth was, though, anything was going to sound eager next to his effortless aloofness.

And what did he mean regarding my discretion? Did he think I would tell my friends about the two of us — what we'd done? It was highly unlikely, I thought. There was nothing and there would be nothing to tell. I could keep that part of me from them, I hoped. I did not entirely understand it, so how on earth could they?

I returned home with rather mixed feelings.

I had a sinking feeling that despite my decree that I was visiting purely on business, I had hoped for something rather less business-like to have occurred. Did I now expect all our encounters to go the way of the last?

Perhaps not, but it was the not-knowing that annoyed me — the not-knowing if he would ever make a move. I might sit there, watching him, and feel that I want him, but conversely, he might sit there and feel he could take it or leave it.

Presented to him on a plate, well, yes, he very might well take it. He was a man, after all. Yet, unsolicited, maybe he wasn't as interested as I might have wished. And then my thoughts would come full circle and I would think, well, what did it really matter? The point was, it didn't matter.

Not right then, anyway.

There was a letter from one Minerva McGonagall awaiting me on my return home. I considered it circumspectly. I would go, of course.

The following day, during my lunch break, I returned to East Sussex under the pretext of following up Mrs Sedgwick's complaint, which, actually, wasn't very far from the truth — except that I wasn't following it up in my official capacity.

The old lady proceeded to show me exactly the window from which she had spotted the intruders. From there, I went out into the garden. There was small outbuilding that could be modified to afford a useful view of the edge of the forest.

Before departing, I advised her firmly that on no account was she to leave her house whilst we were there. Admittedly, I felt somewhat apprehensive as I left her, but convinced myself that this was only an observation exercise. There should be no untoward repercussions.

Saturday dawned and dragged inexorably. I tried to get a few hours' sleep in the afternoon, knowing I wouldn't be getting much in the night. It was a pointless task and I ended up resorting to reading, instead.

I was relieved when darkness finally fell and, eventually, there was a knock on the door.

In he walked. 'I hope this doesn't prove to be a waste of time, Granger,' he warned in greeting.

'Got better things you could be doing, have you?' I answered derisively, without even giving him the courtesy of a look.

'Better than hiding out in some old biddy's garden at a god-awful hour? Yes, I have.'

I didn't respond; instead, I set about loading up my bag.

'I've no doubt you will make it worth my while, however.'

I stilled at that, feeling I could not have mistaken the suggestion in his delicate tone. When I turned around, though, his expression betrayed absolutely nothing.

'Indeed,' I replied slowly, putting the bag down on the table before him. 'And that is why I've made you a flask of coffee and some sandwiches.'

He gave a disdainful glance between me and the bag.

'Was it not very generous of me?' I smiled.

His deadpan expression didn't budge. 'Let's just go, Granger.'

I had a feeling that on arrival in Mrs Sedgwick's garden his grumpiness might not necessarily abate. I was right. When he saw the small building to which I headed towards, I heard a small sigh and a muttered 'Merlin,' under his breath.

'What did you expect?' I hissed behind me.

He said nothing. Admittedly, it was dark, cold, and the shed small and cramped. It was also full of gardening implements and all manner of unidentifiable objects. Using a somewhat muted glow from my wand I instructed him to transfigure two chairs, which he actually managed without complaint.

Of course, I was not surprised to see he'd conjured me something far less comfortable than his own. It was lucky for me I could not fully detect the smirk I knew he'd be wearing in the dark. I sat down and proceeded to charm a large window in the elevation facing the forest, ensuring also that the glass was only one-way. I extinguished the glow from my wand so that we sat in darkness, but for the faint glow of moonlight through the window.

'You could have just said, you know…' he began languidly into the darkness. 'I feel this all might just be an elaborate ploy just to get me alone.'

I bit my lip to prevent a smile, even though he wouldn't have seen it.

I leaned over and whispered in his ear. 'This is business, remember?'

My eyes were beginning to adjust in the darkness and I could make out his pale countenance now. He shifted in his chair, bringing his feet up to rest on the bench in front of the window.

'Get the coffee out, Granger.'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Not until you ask properly.'

'Fine; get the coffee out, Granger, please.'

'No.'

'What…?' He heaved a sigh. 'Get the coffee out, Hermione, please.'

'Certainly, Severus,' I replied, reaching for the flask.

Into a flowerpot-transfigured-mug I poured the coffee and handed it to him.

'Thanks, Granger.'

I laughed quietly. 'I knew you were going to say that; you're getting a bit predictable, you know.'

I was glad not to be able to see his answering expression to that sort of recklessness.

'Bloody cheek,' he muttered to himself.

We sat there for some hours, alternating between companionable silence and idle chat. Admittedly, the idle chat was all on my part. I'm sure he could have sat there in indefinite silence, but I, of course, could not.

At around one o'clock, just when I was beginning to think we might have had a wasted trip, I spotted small glow moving into the trees. I leant forward and clasped the arm of my companion. 'There!' I whispered, feeling the hair on my neck stand up. There were at least three shadows moving in the moonlight.

He sat up to watch the figures disappear into the forest, after which we just looked at each other. There was no need for any words between us — he knew what I was thinking just as much as I did he.

His mouth set into a hard line. 'Do _not_ wander off,' he warned in a low voice, getting to his feet.

Triumphant, I followed him out quietly. I don't think either of us really knew what we hoped to achieve, but similarly, we both knew we could not sit idly by. We moved carefully beyond the edge of Mrs Sedgwick's garden and to the trees of the forest. The moon still shone, and we did not dare to employ any further means of lighting our way. We had to keep therefore to the edge of the forest where the trees were less dense, and to hope our quarry would likely return the way they had come.

Using a large tree for cover, we halted and awaited any unusual sounds. How long we stood there behind that tree, I can't be sure. All I can recall is the fact I hardly dared to breathe. Eventually, we started to hear the sounds of approaching footsteps and the tones of muted voices — too low to make out anything audible.

Suddenly, I felt the clasp of Severus's hand on my upper arm. I stared up at him and he leaned down to whisper in my ear. 'Get ready to Apparate us out of here.'

I watched, confused, as he peered slowly around the tree. At the sound of a murmured spell, I also peered around the other side. At that moment there was a sound of a loud stumble and one of the figures fell to the ground.

'Be careful, will you!' muttered a voice.

The person who fell scrambled back to their feet, hissing loudly. 'I am! I don't know — I must have tripped!'

I recognised that voice, as no doubt did my companion.

'There's nothing there you clumsy oaf!'

I turned at that, thinking it was time to get out before they became too suspicious. I grabbed my companion's arm and Apparated us into my living room.

When the world stopped spinning we looked at each other speculatively.

'Nice work,' I said, pleased.

He inclined his head. 'Well, now we know what our next move will be — back to Cresswell. I think we need to get into his house.'

'OK… When shall we do it?'

' _We_?' He frowned. ' _We_ will not do anything; _you_ will leave this to me.'

I scowled at him and folded my arms. 'Not this again…'

'Yes, _this_ _again_. I'm telling you now, Granger, do not go bothering Cresswell without me.'

'But it's fine for _you_ to do it without me?'

He glared at me. 'Yes it is.'

'Right…' I rolled my eyes, flinging my bag onto the floor and tearing off my cloak. 'What exactly do you propose to do to stop me? Give me detention?'

'Don't be facetious; it doesn't suit you.'

'Well, don't be obnoxious.'

I took my bag over to the kitchen table and started unpacking it.

'I'm not being obnoxious,' he said softly. 'I can afford a slap on the wrists if I were to be caught. You can't; you have your future to think about.'

I spun round ready to issue a rebuttal, but his sudden proximity caused me to falter. I looked up to find his eyes were full of intent. He took the opportunity to put a hand to my jaw, whereupon he smoothed his thumb gently over my bottom lip. I found I had to look away, but he lifted my chin to force my eyes back to his. When they were, I was almost mesmerised by the combination of his light touch and warm gaze.

I say _almost_ mesmerised, mind.

I reared my head back from his grasp, put my palm onto his chest and nudged him slightly, feeling a disbelieving grin form across my face. 'You would try to seduce me into compliancy, would you?

The innocent rise of his eyebrows was undone entirely by the amused and apologetic smile he could not contain.

I let out a laugh. 'Unbelievable! Think I'm that pliable, do you?'

'No…' he said weakly.

'You do!' I exclaimed with another laugh.

He shook his head. 'No, I don't…'

'I don't believe you.' I looked at him pointedly.

He studied me for a moment and I began to feel a sense of anticipation. ' _Are_ you that…pliable?' he asked in a low voice.

I nearly said yes, but I found the strength not to. 'Perhaps you ought to determine that for yourself?' I quirked my eyebrow and forced myself to brush past him and out of his way.

I knew I was trying to prompt him into initiating something. At his ensuing silence, however, I wondered whether I might be left disappointed.

'You're remarkably forthright…' he said eventually.

'Is that a posh way of saying I'm bossy?'

I couldn't quite hide the derision in my tone as I busied myself pouring a glass of water. How many times had I heard that before? I thought resentfully.

'Actually, Granger,' he answered, a little irritably, 'it simply means you are forthright — you know, direct, frank, blunt —'

'All right!' I interrupted ruefully. 'I get the point.'

'It was not meant as a criticism.'

I felt myself smile inwardly with relief. I turned to him. 'Oh… I think that's a total of _two_ compliments from you now.'

'Careful you don't get complacent won't you?'

I laughed. 'I can assure you, complacency is not an option where you are concerned.'

There was somewhat of an awkward silence, then. Even I couldn't think of anything to say. So instead, I occupied myself in taking down my hair and started trying to untangle some of the knots I'd acquired throughout the course of the day and night. I was starting to feel the effects of such a long day and felt I could not continue this repartee much longer. I would not prevail upon him to stay.

Of course, he was no stranger to being forthright, either; in certain circumstances he just needed a nudge here and there. And this was to be my final nudge of the night.

'I will accompany you to Cresswell's cottage,' I announced airily. 'I can keep watch if nothing else.'

He came to stand behind me. I felt his hand close around mine, whereupon he removed the comb from my grip and set it down.

'You will not accompany me to Cresswell's,' he whispered. He scooped together my hair, placing it over one shoulder. I thought he might intend to kiss my neck, but ignoring the tingle of his fingertips, I spun around out of his grasp.

'I will come with you.'

'You will not.'

'I will.'

His look was maddeningly unfazed, but took on an edge as he stepped forward, an edge that I recognised with foreboding.

'I hope your determination stems not from any... _lingering_ doubts over my dealings with our esteemed Cresswell?' His hand reached out to my waist, so that we stood close together. 'Indeed, I hope you are not thinking I wish to cover my tracks? It could all fit very nicely, if you think about it.'

My stomach dropped. Those doubts had not entered my mind, but now that he had mentioned them, I felt momentarily uneasy as I remembered my previous suspicions about him. He watched me closely, but he was obviously greatly amused to wrong-foot me. There was that glint in his eye.

I'd resolved to trust him and I was not going to waver from that. I could not waver from that, for my own sake.

'And now you are thinking,' he continued speaking almost against my hair, 'that you must relent in order to demonstrate your stubborn beliefs and stout confidence in your own judgements.

He was right; I felt my eyes narrow at such unerring perspicacity.

His free hand now moved my hair behind my shoulder and he brushed his thumb at my neck. 'You know how very hurtful those doubts were to me, of course.'

I almost smiled at the complete lack of any hurt in his tone. The only thing I could hear in it was knowing calculation.

He kissed me then, for which I was grateful. It was only swift, but I was grateful, because I could read any number of things into it. He could be undeniably calculating with words, but I never felt those intimate touches were ever calculating. They always felt real.

I reached my arms up to his shoulders, as if to return the favour. His arm around my waist tightened reflexively, but I did not kiss him straightaway.

Instead, I peered at him. 'How is it you know my mind so well?' I asked him simply.

I was not necessarily thinking of _Legilimency_ when I asked him that question. I knew my own mind was not unguarded in that sense. There was no accusation; it was simply an honest question that I expected there might not necessarily by an answer to.

But he did have an answer to it. And he did not answer with offence, for he had read the intent behind my question well.

There was a moment during which I could see the deliberation in his eyes, and then his voice came out in a murmur.

'We are the same, in many ways, you and me.'

I think this was the moment I fell in love with him. I didn't know it at the time, of course, but, after much reflection, I recognise it as being this moment.

What I understood at the time, however, was something rather more uncomplicated. I felt my breath seize in my throat and I felt a voracious heat surge through me at the idea that he and I were on some form of shared footing and that _he_ had recognised it. Of course, that it should have elicited in me such a physical response does not surprise me. It was what I wanted and what I had been at pains to cultivate. Nothing else really mattered then.

The real implication that would not yet dawn, though, was that I'd finally found it. I'd found a meeting of minds; a shared empathy; an innate connection; a mutual understanding — someone who saw me for me.

Whether I knew it or not, it was what I'd been looking for my whole life.

But it would be a while later before I would have to fully consider where it left me.

* * *

AN: Thanks so much for the kind comments that have been left! : )


	20. Twenty

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

AN: I'm sorry for the delay with this chapter - life got in the way a bit this past month.

* * *

 **Twenty**

I awoke after a deep and dreamless sleep and it was late morning, to be precise. I didn't often sleep late, but of course, this was an exception. After arriving back from the forest and by the time _other_ matters had been attended to, sleep had not arrived at a godly hour.

I was surprised to note the other matter in question was still present — still sleeping, in fact. His hair was the only part visible when I turned my head towards him.

We'd known that Cresswell was involved, but I certainly hadn't realised he was taking such a _hands_ - _on_ role. He seemed to be our best option to pursue next. Searching through his house for evidence, though, it was decidedly risky.

I recalled the vehemence of my companion that I would not partake in this undertaking, and here was another source of my frustration.

He thought we were the same. Those words were still extraordinary to me. The frustration though, was that he could make this observation, yet I still knew very little about him. I wanted to know so much more, and whilst a part of me thought there was time yet, another traitorous part reminded me that if _I_ did not prod then the opportunity might very well pass me by.

And then the indignant, haughty, independent part of me started to bridle and sought to remind my brain that I did not need to pursue this man. If he did not want to share things with me, then I should not embarrass myself by trying. I was fine by myself. We'd agreed this was nothing more than a trifle.

But what a diverting, enjoyable trifle, nonetheless.

As lightly as I could, I crept out of bed and wrapped my dressing gown around me. Then, I moved quietly into the kitchen and set about making coffee. When I returned, I intended to set the mug down and then, perhaps, leave him to it. Except, he was already stirring.

 _'Finally!'_ I admonished. 'It's two o'clock in the afternoon, you know.'

He sat up with a jolt, a fleeting twinge of bewilderment discernible and I couldn't quite hide my subsequent amusement. He, however, spotted it straightaway. He took the mug off me with ferocious glare.

'All right, it is ten o'clock, actually,' I admitted.

I sat crossed legged on the bed and tried not to make my study of him too obtrusive. But I did study him and I found I enjoyed it immensely.

'Busy today?' I asked in effort to divert my thoughts.

'No.'

I bit my lip to stop myself sighing. 'You haven't told me anything much of what it is you do…'

'I wasn't aware I had to.' He sipped his coffee with supreme unconcern.

'You are not obliged; it is merely customary to share such details.'

'Indeed?' He contemplated. 'It is merely a matter of custom, is it? Why then do you not talk to me about what it is you do?'

I glared at him. 'You know that is because there is _nothing_ for me to tell.'

'Ah, yes,' he answered with a chuckle.

I set my mug down and decided I was getting nowhere. I thought I might prod a bit differently and see how he liked that.

'When are we off to see Cresswell, then?'

He actually lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes in what I took to be despair. 'Not this again,' he muttered crossly.

I smiled to myself. There was silence for a moment as I considered pressing the matter. It wasn't either of us who broke the silence, however. We both flinched violently when the sound of my name being called through the Floo travelled through my slightly ajar bedroom door.

' _Hermione_?'

It was Harry. We both froze and stared at each other with wide eyes.

' _Hermione, are you home?_

I watched, paralysed in horror, as a sly smirk spread over my companion's face. He leaned up on his elbow and I knew what he intended, even before his mouth opened.

'P—'

There was no time for my wand. I launched myself forwards, placing my palm over his mouth as I landed against him heavily. I turned my head to look at the door as if expecting Harry to just stroll in. He didn't, of course.

My quarry struggled beneath me for a moment, but then he took hold of my arm with both of his hands and easily prised my hand away.

He was laughing.

'Don't joke about stuff like that,' I hissed firmly.

'Your face was a picture.'

I glared at him. 'There are clothes on the floor out there from last night — _yours and mine_.'

He shrugged carelessly. 'Potter is your problem.' I think he may have muttered something derogatory under his breath as well, but it was inaudible to me.

I imagined the look on Harry's face if he had walked in and my insides quailed with embarrassment. I lay down with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling as he Summoned his clothes to him. I couldn't bring myself to look until it felt seemly to do so.

'What now?' I asked, mindful of the fact he had yet to clarify his intentions as to Cresswell.

He casually reached over and loosened the belt of my dressing gown, so that it fell open. I immediately sat up with a yelp. 'Excuse me!' I chided, retying it.

'I apologise; my hand slipped.'

'Stop avoiding the question, more like.'

'I have much business to attend to this week, but I shall call upon you one evening.' He gave me a look. 'If you are very nice to me, I might allow a discussion.'

I gave a derisive huff. 'Well don't forget to send word first, will you?'

'Ah yes, the other male friends you might be entertaining…'

'Of which _you_ may no longer be one if you carry on,' I rebounded quickly.

He gave no reply, which spoke volumes enough. I watched contemplatively as he tied up his boots and then get to his feet. His only attempt at tidying up his hair was to run his hand through it once. When he noticed my open appraisal, he stilled.

'What are you thinking about now?'

I sat up. 'Simply that you should know I won't take kindly to any subterfuge on your part.

'Oh you won't, will you?'

I shook my head silently, in what I hoped was a firm, resolute manner.

He held my pointed stare easily and his countenance was clear, which led me to think he would heed my warning. Certainly, when he sat back down onto the edge of the bed and leaned towards me, I felt a ripple of anticipation at what I expected might be a reassuring kiss goodbye.

As we have seen, my naievete, however, knows no bounds sometimes.

There was no kiss on the lips, cheek, or otherwise. Instead, he whispered conspiratorially.

'Mind how you go, Granger; I've seen you take none too kindly to me before. Let us hope I don't enjoy it too much.'

He patted my leg and then disappeared.

To my eternal chagrin, he did not call upon me that following week. Wednesday arrived and dissolved into Thursday and so to Friday, but there was neither sight nor sound of him. Unfortunately, I had fully expected that he might appear. My consternation was a cause for much reflection.

I considered several times marching into the Society to demand to know our next move, but a greater part of me felt that would amuse him greatly. And it occurred to me that I provided him with far too much amusement.

Uncomfortably, I knew that I was starting to spend an inordinate amount of time analysing and second-guessing not just his, but my own thoughts and actions. It served nothing, however, except to tie myself up in knots.

I started to think, as the week went on, that he really might have taken it upon himself to deal with Cresswell alone. Should that be the case, my irritation I knew would be acute. I wound myself up furiously with the imaginings I came up with on that score. This was as much my quest as it was his and I could not countenance him taking it over — trampling me underfoot like the dispensable little girl I was often made out to be.

My thoughts, however, did not always return to him for reasons of our business. Much of my chagrin centred on the uneasy realisation that I longed to see him, and for no other reason than to simply experience his company — to spend time with him. A not unsurprising side-effect of the situation I had allowed to develop between us, but one which I was afraid I might have sub-consciously been trying to cultivate.

I was not unduly concerned. It seemed to me that the time we did spend together was such that I could be forgiven for desiring it. We had a connection; he did not fail to notice it, either. Wasn't it right – normal – to want to nurture it?

In any case, I had to battle for conscientiousness at work. I was unused to my mind being preoccupied with such flights of fancy. It disquieted me how easy it was to lose interest in the things around me and focus inwardly instead.

But I chose not to seek him out. I was firm on that front. I told myself this was because of my impressive will — my own reserve of aloofness. In truth, however, my resolve was made easier because lurking in the back of my mind was the prospect that we would meet at Professor McGonagall's one hundredth birthday party that Saturday night. The only drawback was that this celebration was to be held in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and that there would be a multitude of others present, of course. Still, it remained to me an opportunity to anticipate and I was determined he would not get away lightly — in any respect.

Somewhat unusually, I spent an inordinate amount of time on my appearance when that Saturday arrived. This isn't to say that I never made any effort for special occasions, but this time my deliberations had a purpose that disposed me to indecisiveness, and I can't abide indecisiveness.

And the point was that I wasn't even sure he would notice. In so many ways, he seemed eerily removed from such minutiae and trivialities.

The other somewhat disquieting note was that, as I surveyed the finished result in the mirror, I realised I had enjoyed it. I had enjoyed the primping and the prickling sense of anticipation, and was exulted by the resulting measure of triumph as I surveyed my reflection. I enjoyed how it made me feel.

As it was, perhaps I should have spent more time preparing for how I would deal with him in the presence of so many of my peers. After arriving with the extended Weasley clan, and after greeting the Headmistress herself, and after the initial pleasantries and chit-chat were gone through, when I had a moment to scan the hall and the other guests, I spotted him. Our eyes met and he nodded, but to my infinite horror, I felt my entire body blush and I hurriedly turned away, cringing violently. I think I had had it in my mind that I would have confidently sought him out and greeted him with some suitably pithy remark, and then basked in the outcome.

I appeared have been reprieved with Harry and the incident of the Floo, for he had made no mention of it, but right then I had an alarming premonition of how mortifying it would be to be if we were to be found out. So, at that precise moment, I felt too unusually self-conscious to even contemplate heading in his direction. Somewhat un-Gryffindor-like, I chose to work my way around all my other acquaintances until I felt I'd drawn enough fortification to face him.

I had only managed to imbibe one and a half glasses of wine by the time my prevarication caught up with me. We were brought together by none other than Neville Longbottom himself. I was pretending not to have noticed them conversing nearby, when Neville called out to me and motioned me over.

With a deep breath, I moved to join them.

'Hello there, um, Professor Snape.'

'Miss Granger, I am honoured, finally. You have spoken to all of your former teachers tonight bar me. Such disregard has cut me deeply.'

Neville gave me a sympathetic look.

'I meant no disrespect, I'm sure,' I replied, careful to keep the sarcasm for his ears only.

Neville cleared his throat. 'Severus and I were just talking about my application to join the Most Extraordinary Society for Potioneers, Hermione.'

I blinked in disbelief.

'I was wondering if you could help me gain access into the Ministry's library, Hermione, to assist with my study?'

'Of course, Neville,' I mumbled dumbly.

'Thank you, I'd be happy to discuss it with you, actually — Oh, ah, excuse me both, I think my Grandmother needs me.'

He left us with a quick smile and I turned raised eyebrows to my erstwhile companion.

He was smirking freely. 'Not envious of Longbottom's success, are we, Granger? Perhaps you yourself have it in mind that you would like to join the Society?' He chuckled darkly now. 'We don't have to tell anyone how you came by your membership, of course.'

I shook my head in resigned amusement. 'I do not have it in mind, actually.'

'Fair enough.' He drank from his glass. 'You are much in demand.'

I gave a little shrug. 'Well, you either have it or you don't.'

He seemed to bite back a smile at that. I decided that any discomfort or reserve I held regarding the occasion I would have to ignore. There was the burning question that had pricked at me all week and I could not fail to ask it now. I took a step towards him and he visibly stiffened in response.

'Tell me you did not visit Cresswell.'

He said nothing to goad me, no doubt.

'Just tell me, please.'

'Is this all you think about, Granger?' His look was one of utter disdain.

Despite myself, at his suddenly personal directness, I suppressed the urge to glance around to see if anyone was looking. There was nothing to see, of course, but I suddenly felt as though anyone might be able to tell of the relations we had had just by looking at us. I felt my cheeks warm immediately.

He spotted this, of course. I could tell it from the way his eyes started to glitter in that strange way he has.

'Not quite _all_ you think about, clearly.'

I drained my glass and set it down, furious with myself for getting flustered. Eventually, he appeared to take pity on me.

'I have many other things to contend with Granger, I cannot devote all my energies into one channel indefinitely. I told you I would contact you and I am a man of my word.'

I scoffed rather loudly at that.

He feigned a look of surprise. 'That is the second time you have wounded me tonight —'

' _Wounded_ ,' I interrupted disbelievingly. 'You are a man of your word only when it suits you.'

His eyebrows shot up. 'Oh — you do not think the services you so willingly provide suit me?'

My jaw slackened at that, and now my cheeks really were aflame. I did glance around to ensure no one else could have heard that particular remark. I made to be scandalised at his directness, but I was rather secretly buoyed by it.

'I'll have you know, I have no idea what services you are referring to,' I announced primly.

'Then I shall simply have to remind you.'

'Maybe you should.'

To my dismay, I could see a large group of Weasleys heading in our direction and I knew our conversation would have to be ended. He'd spotted them too and with only a parting look at me, he swept off silently.

I swallowed down the disappointment I felt as he retreated — disappointment that I had not reached a resolve with him. There was no doubt in my mind I intended that I would not be returning home from this night alone. I watched with interest as he approached Neville and engage him in conversation once more.

I kept a surreptitious watch for him for the remainder of the night, waiting for an opportunity to approach him. So it was only by chance that, to my infinite frustration, an hour later I happened to clock the blur of his robes as he slipped out through the door at the back of the hall. I sighed deeply, setting down my goblet with a resigned thump and thinking that disappearing without a word would be exactly the type of thing he would do. I managed to hastily extricate myself from my friends and made to follow in his wake.

Of course, when I entered the dimly lit hallway, there was no immediate way of knowing where he would have gone. Perhaps he was even crossing the grounds to the Apparition point as I stood there dithering. But if he was still in the castle, I wondered, where would he go? There were too many potential answers to that question, so I headed in the direction to the place where _I_ would go.

I walked the well-worn route slowly, almost as though the onslaught of feelings and memories were providing a physical resistance. When I reached the library I felt my heart thump in anticipation at the orange glow visible. I stepped over the threshold and moved towards that orange glow. I was not unduly surprised when I spotted the back of a rather familiar dark head at a table. He had one hand clasped around a tumbler and the other turned the pages of the book in front of him.

I smiled to myself. 'I thought _I_ was tragic…' I announced by way of greeting.

He turned his head, but I couldn't discern any true surprise at my presence.

I approached him, and when I saw what book he had open in front of him, I wished I'd chosen a less sarcastic comment.

It was one of Dumbledore's works. He shut it and pushed it away immediately.

'I have some way to fall yet,' he rebuffed darkly.

I detected an empty note in his voice that disposed me to smile a small smile in acknowledgement.

'Why are _you_ haunting the hallways instead of enjoying the frivolity?' he asked.

'I'm not feeling very frivolous.'

It was more or less true. Or at least, I wanted to enjoy the frivolity with him.

He nodded to himself and drank from his glass.

'Something wrong?' I asked into the silence.

'No.'

He drained the glass now and set it down sharply. His hair fell forward with the movement and obscured the side of his face. Without even thinking about it, I reached out and brushed it back. To my secret pleasure, he neither flinched or reared away. But he did not look at me and so I dared myself to take my other hand to his chin and turn it to me.

'Just because we're not the frivolous sort, it doesn't mean we should not have… fun.'

He contemplated for a moment and I detected the faint return of his humour.

'I know your idea of fun,' he replied in a low voice that warmed me. 'And I'm not sure the Hogwarts library is an appropriate setting for it.'

He took my hand away from his jaw, but I held onto his fingers instead.

I feigned disappointment. 'Of course not the library… But the dungeons are not so very far away.'

He looked up sharply with a faintly horrified expression. 'Are you really that twisted?'

'You did say I have hidden depths.'

He allowed himself a brief chuckle at that, but I could tell he wasn't greatly amused by my turn of conversation. Clearly, he was in somewhat of a mood that I wasn't accustomed to.

'Your friends will be wondering where you are,' he warned, extricating his hand.

I considered him for a time, wondering if I'd imagined the faint note of resentment in his tone.

'They can manage fine without me, besides, I'm all partied out. In fact, I might even head home shortly.' I stepped behind him as if perusing the shelves and continued in a light tone. 'Now, if only I had someone to come and keep me company…'

'Seems to me you could have your pick of any man down there, Granger.'

Coming from anyone else, I might have read something enlightening into that remark. Except, from him, in his usual disinterested tone, it was hard to see it as anything other than a detached observation. I found myself to be disappointed in his lack of engagement. It always seemed to me he could never fail to miss an opportunity to skewer me with his wit. Perhaps the setting really was too much of an obstacle.

I swallowed a sigh. 'I think, maybe, you wish to be left alone.'

I had nearly got to the door when he suddenly shoved his chair back and stood. I turned around and watched as he sent the book he had been reading back into the bookshelf. 'It would suit my purpose to be alone,' he mused, crossing over to me. 'But plans may be altered, of course.'

'What _is_ your purpose?' I pondered without really thinking about it.

He said nothing for a time; instead he appeared to survey me.

'I've neglected to say that you look very beautiful tonight.'

 _This_ was a surprise. I felt my stomach tingle tightly in response. 'I'm glad you noticed.'

'I'm not entirely dead inside, Granger.'

'Oh, I know _that_ —I just wondered if you might be above such superficiality.'

'I can appreciate the softer qualities, when it suits me, of course.'

I smiled in recognition of my previous words.

'Are you still in want of company?'

I nodded.

'Then I suggest you cease talking and we leave this dump post-haste.'

' _Dump_ ,' I chided harshly as I followed him into the darkened hallway.

He paused halfway along and I watched as a small doorway appeared. 'Follow me,' he whispered softly. 'I know a shortcut to the grounds which will allow us to bypass the Great Hall.'

His wand illuminated a narrow spiral staircase and he turned to me expectantly.

'I'm not sure I should go down there with you,' I murmured suspiciously.

'It's a bit late to be worrying about your virtue, Granger — if you ever had any, that is.'

I scoffed with laughter. 'Careful you don't trip down those steps…'

He took hold of my hand and proceeded to descend. 'If I fall so do you.'

By the time we reached the bottom, and at his pace too, my head was spinning. I wavered on my feet and placed my free hand on the wall to steady myself.

'Wine and windy stairs do not mix,' I breathed unsteadily.

'Merlin, Granger, how much have you had?' he muttered as he unlocked and opened the door.

The cool night air hit my cheeks pleasantly. He tugged on my hand and we walked quickly across the darkened lawns until we reached the gates. There was no one about, and I felt a brief pang of guilt that I hadn't said my goodbyes to anyone. That guilt evaporated entirely when he Apparated us directly into my bedroom. Although I did not notice straightaway, standing as I was with my eyes closed and clutching onto him until I felt the dizziness dissipate.

When his lips suddenly pressed at mine, that did nothing for my unsteadiness, either.

This was what I'd been anticipating all week. Forget Cresswell; I was prepared now to admit that my ire in that regard might only be a front to engineer this very situation. This was what I'd been truly waiting for. Unfortunately, it was this startling thought which probably led me to open my mouth and send things careering off course.

We'd pulled apart for a breath, his hands were seemingly everywhere, and —

'Wait,' I interrupted breathily, before he could kiss me again. ' _Where_ have you been this week?'

He completely ignored me, his hands at the buttons of my robes. I caught them in mine to halt their progress.

'Why did you not come to see me?' I pressed.

I will never know why, when I'd achieved my aim in getting him where I wanted him, I sabotaged it so effectively.

He looked mildly irritated and stepped away, sitting down on the bed. 'I told you, I have been busy.'

'Too busy to show your face for one night — really?'

'Perhaps I have others besides you to call upon?'

I reared back at that. 'You're very ambiguous, but I don't believe in your mystery callers any more than you believe in mine.'

He conceded the point with a shrug. 'Waiting for me, were you?'

I couldn't bring myself to answer, feeling a creeping sense of embarrassment come over me at the confirmation of what deep down I had suspected from the start —that he took something entirely different from our encounters than I did.

'I told you you need to get out more.'

I scoffed angrily. 'Excuse me –'

He forestalled me with a groan. 'For Merlin's sake, Granger, do you ever stop talking?'

I ignored a brief stab of hurt. 'Perhaps if _you_ said a bit more then I wouldn't have to.'

His eyebrows shot up at that. 'You've got me here under false pretences, clearly. You never said you wanted my company simply for _conversation_.'

I shook my head weakly.

There was a shadow of a smirk evident around his mouth. The ensuing silence was deafening, though. It rang only with his complete reticence and my increasing realisation that I might now be in over my head. To this day, I do not know what answers to my questions I expected or wanted from him. Maybe I'd hoped for something — a hint or a sign that pointed to more than just his cavalier attitude.

'I think you're right; I do talk too much.' I could feel the momentum had been lost and sobering self-consciousness was creeping upon me. 'I think I need more wine, too.'

I took the opportunity to slip out and scuttle to the kitchen. I poured two glasses, but only stared at them for a time. I could do without the wine, I thought wryly. I could already feel my face flushed and my brain a tad fuzzy. Conversely, I also felt cold — cold with uncertainty and confusion.

In a moment, he was next to me. He took the glasses from me and set them down. 'You don't need more wine,' he said. 'And neither do you talk too much.'

He sighed at length. 'If you wish for my company, Hermione, then you need only ask for it.'

He still didn't understand, I thought grimly. Did he not know how entirely frustrating his aloofness was? And what about his thoughts and feelings, I wondered. What did he think about me? Do you ever wish for _my_ company? That is what I wanted so badly to find out.

'What about what you want? What is it _you_ wish for?' There was a mixture of wonder and pity in my tone.

We seemed to look at each other for the longest time. I even thought he might simply refuse to answer, as was sometimes his wont. Perhaps it would have been better if he had.

'I wish for nothing — I want nothing,' he replied eventually. Blankly.

'I don't —'

'That much I do know, Hermione,' he interrupted firmly.

I nearly tried to protest again, but the comment seemed rather too loaded to refute with any success. It would be an entirely pointless exercise. I wondered if over time I might not be able to change that outlook. As I watched him, with the firm set of his jaw and the blank countenance, I thought of my naievete again. I looked next down at the robes I wore and then at the ends of my robustly tended curls that seemed to taunt me.

Uneasily, I thought about the week, and more, that had gone by and how preoccupied I had become with him. I thought about the time I had spent tweaking my appearance, and what had it been for? He really could take it or leave it — he was not preoccupied with me. I felt unaccountably disappointed to comprehend it. I also felt foolish.

And of course, I knew it shouldn't matter. I had agreed that this was to be nothing more than a distraction between us. He hadn't promised anything more than that, so it was unreasonable of me to feel this suddenly churlish towards him now. Knowing full well the life he had lived, I could even see how it was he had come to feel this way — why he chose to live his life emotionally unattached.

Understanding how his mind worked did not help me — it could not change anything for me. The sticking point was, I knew it really did matter to me. It would come to matter greatly. It would matter to me whether he whiled away moments thinking about me or wanting me. It would matter to me whether he wanted to seek out my company for no other reason than to be with me.

Of course, I could accept that my feelings would always be one-sided and continue to dig myself an even deeper hole, simply for the short-term enjoyment of it. Or I could use my brain and take a step back to protect myself, while I still had the chance, and while I had not yet revealed too much.

'I think you were right, Severus, when you said this would not end well. I'm sorry if... Well, perhaps it's best if we just leave it there...'

I trailed off, relieved at the indifferent tone I had managed to pull from somewhere.

'Very well.'

But I was sorry, deeply so, because I could feel the dread in the pit of my stomach knowing he had it in him to simply turn around and go with not even a flicker of expression. But to his credit, he seemed to know, as he always did, the direction of my thoughts, and he allowed me a little more than that.

'We _are_ the same, you and me,' he began,'though life has treated us both rather differently, of course. I see the loneliness in you and the life yet to be fulfilled, but unlike me, you have so much more in there still to give.' I felt rather than saw the light touch of his finger on my chest to emphasise his point. 'It… Well, it spills out in almost everything you do.'

The tone of his voice was not harsh; it was soft, yet matter of fact, and I felt dazed by it.

'Do not look to me, though, Hermione, to bridge the gap. I cannot do it, I do not want to do it, and I do not deserve to do it. There will be someone or something that will deserve the focus of your passion one day, I'm sure of it.'

I could only nod dumbly. There seemed nothing to be gained by doing anything more.

He stepped back and I knew he would shortly disappear. His expression was not unduly disheartened, and I felt a stab of bitterness once more at his self-control.

'Well,' he continued in a brisker tone, 'now we know where we are'.

He paused, an indecipherable look on his features.

'The offer still stands, though, if you change your mind — you know where to find me.'

After the crack of his Apparition faded into silence, I must have stood staring into the ether for several minutes — utterly flummoxed. Eventually, I flopped down onto the settee and put my head in my hands. I told myself to get a grip. I was a confident, independent young woman. I didn't need the attentions of a man to validate my existence or to give my life meaning. I had managed well enough thus far and would continue to manage just fine.

I thought of his parting shot and sprang to my feet contemptuously. Change my mind? I certainly didn't need to go begging for the scraps of attention that Severus Snape might deign to grant me.

Oh no.

I could and would do better than that.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading ; )


	21. Twenty One

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

AN: I'm really sorry for the delay! I fully intend to finish this story — I know how it ends! — I've just hit a few brick walls on the way. Hopefully, I'm back on track now. Thanks for your patience : )

* * *

 **Twenty One**

There was a Weasley lunch to attend that Sunday afternoon. I could have cried at the thought of it. It is such an awful thing to say, but that is how melodramatic I felt when I dragged myself from my bed that following morning. After a generous slug of _Hangover Cure,_ I'd had to throw myself down onto the settee to let it work its magic before I could do anything productive.

Once presentable and fully functioning, I headed to The Burrow. It started well enough and I thought I'd been lucky, making through the actual lunch unscathed. My appetite was hardly at its best, but, mindfully, so as not to draw unwanted attention, I'd ensured to fill my plate with my usual portion. To my relief nothing unusual was noted. It was only later, however, when I was sat out in the garden watching the children play with their toys, that I realised I was not to be entirely successful. Ginny flopped down beside me and the somewhat pregnant pause that prefaced her speech told me I should brace myself.

'Where did you disappear off to last night, then?'

I made not to wince at her directness. 'Just home,' I replied simply. 'I should have, ah, said goodbye… Think I'd had a bit too much wine and needed my bed.'

My gut clenched at the obfuscation. There was somewhat of a loaded silence following that and I knew with dawning apprehension what was to follow. I could see by the way she casually picked at the grass and the studied nonchalance on her face. I should have known better. Of _course_ Harry would have told her what he had seen that morning from my fireplace.

'We, ah, did think you might be seeing someone — '

I issued a little sigh.

'Oh — he has only told _me_ of his suspicions; no one else.'

'And what did he say exactly?'

'That he thought you had someone over… You don't have to tell us, of course, we were just happy that you —'

My insides cringed unbidden. 'I'm not seeing anyone,' I interposed, working to keep my tone bitterness free. 'It was just a… brief thing — someone from work.'

I wished I hadn't added the last part. Ginny knew that most of my male colleagues were a few generations older than me, and further still, that the only regard I held them in was contempt. But what else could I have said? The _truth?_ Merlin forbid; there would come time enough for that melodrama. I was lucky to have postponed it for as long as I did.

In any case, to her credit, she didn't probe any further. This was always the way between Ginny and me — we never discussed the sordid details. That's what inevitably comes of being in relationship with her brother and she with one of my best friends.

Never mind that it was always in my nature to be somewhat prudish when it suited.

'I see,' she said thoughtfully.

I knew what she was thinking now — that I was not one for casual flings. My predictable existence had made a rod for my own back, I realised. Any deviation from my staid, chartered course would attract far more interest than most. I did not resent it so very much, of course, but I valued some privacy, nevertheless.

'You know you may always talk to me, Hermione? I wouldn't tell Harry anything, if you wished it.'

Uneasily, I wondered then if she might not know who my mystery caller was… But I decided that was nigh on impossible to know. I nodded with an encouraging, grateful smile and she left me be, turning her attention to her children and husband. I simply watched for a time, amazed at the pure happiness that emanated effortlessly from that tableau. Perfection even, one might say. Certainly, I felt my throat dry unbidden and I swallowed against a traitorous pang of anxiety. I didn't yearn for children or domesticity, as such, but the human condition could not be ignored. I yearned for something, I knew that much.

It had to be a blip, to be sure. It was nothing more than that. And for most, perhaps, a blip was not anything to dwell on too deeply. But I began considering how stale my life had become, and so, a blip might be rather more on par with a calamity than anything else.

And yet, the prospect was not so very gloomy looking, however. Notwithstanding my aspirations for my future happiness, I wondered if I might not actually have had a lucky escape with the events of the previous evening.

The occasion he had said there could never be anything between us, well, I'd obviously misinterpreted his meaning. I thought he envisioned it would be circumstance and our shared past that might prevent anything more than a dalliance. Certainly, that is what I had thought, and I can't say I would have entirely disagreed with him.

But after his words of last night, I saw that what he really meant is that _he_ was the obstacle. _He_ did not want any form of emotional attachment — with anyone.

And the reasons why that might be, well, they could be innumerate. He was too complex a man to fathom them all out. So, I should be grateful to have opened my eyes to him. And I was grateful, but admittedly, I was a great many other things, too.

Disappointed; frustrated… But determined and resolute, as well.

Of course, the one minor issue in all of this, despite my protracted musings on the matter, was that I had no real grasp on my own true feelings at this time. I'd become a little consumed — a little swept away by the novelty of it all. And Merlin's wand there could be no denying there was novelty.

A little carried away — that was all.

Or so I thought.

In any case, there were more pressing considerations to occupy my brain. One particular problem remained and that was what to do about progressing the investigation into the matter of the Augureys.

There were three options I concluded. One was to drop it entirely and that could simply not be borne. I could write off my fancies, but I could not write off the Augureys. It would take far more than a smart of embarrassment for that. The second option was to ignore all personal entanglements and continue co-operating with Severus Snape, and the last option was to draw a line entirely under my association with him and to continue on alone.

The latter option seemed more immediately desirable, if somewhat selfishly so. However, the more I thought on it, the more doubtful I felt. Without his particular input, I was likely to hit a brick wall sooner rather than later. Furthermore, there was the lurking, terrible prospect that he might solve it before me. I could not have stomached that.

As you see, I'm not entirely selfless in my crusades.

I chewed on my options for some days after. I abhor indecisiveness, but I was becoming remarkably accustomed to it. Still, a minor delay whilst I dithered could not hurt, I thought. In fact, a moment of temporary retreat could only be beneficial to gain some much-needed perspective. In the end, I decided I would not proceed alone, and I was settled on that. I just had to work up the impetus to get everything back on track.

Events, as they often are, though, were somewhat taken from my hands. A week had passed since that night at Hogwarts and nothing had really moved forward. I went to work, I came home, and I endeavoured to focus my mind on other matters — usually an engrossing read. I told myself umpteen times to just send an Owl to Edinburgh. Turns out I didn't need to.

The fly in the ointment came when I bumped into Neville as I stepped into the _Leaky Cauldron_ one Friday afternoon.

'Not at work?' he enquired. His expression was one of mild disbelief.

I smiled grimly. 'I've been ordered to take the afternoon off – I've been told I'm working too many hours.'

It was true. I'd been hauled into the office to say I'd accumulated nearly a month's worth of leave by staying on beyond my usual hours. I didn't want the leave, I told them obstinately, but to no avail. For a quiet life, I'd acquiesced.

Neville's expression turned inquisitive. 'Oh… Do you have plans? I'm just about to head to a seminar. A colleague of mine has dropped out — do you fancy it?' He smiled wryly. 'It's about plants, of course.'

I'm sure my eyes lit up immediately. 'Neville, I'd love to! Thank you.' I smiled widely, feeling happy at such an unexpected turn in my otherwise dull afternoon.

We walked through to the courtyard of the _Leaky_ , whereupon he announced _he_ would Apparate us to the venue. Of course, I never thought it would be pertinent to ask _where_ this venue was. And, naturally, when the world stopped spinning and I found myself staring at a familiar stone wall, in a familiar passageway, and trudged dumbly behind an oblivious Neville into a very familiar street, I felt my happiness disintegrate into something else entirely.

'I think you've been to the Most Extraordinary Society for Potioneers before, haven't you, Hermione?'

I blinked up at the forbidding façade and fought not to grimace. 'Indeed; I have had the pleasure once or twice.'

I watched him jump up the steps. I half-debated running in the opposite direction. Of all the luck, I thought helplessly, resisting the urge to put my head in my hands.

I heaved a steadying breath.

I would not run, of course. It was not in my nature.

Instead, and somewhat unconsciously, I straightened my robes and followed Neville up the steps and through the revolving door. There were many people milling around the entrance hall — a somewhat incongruous sight considering the place almost seemed deathly quiet on my previous visits. I quickly snatched up a small leaflet, the front of which proclaimed purpose of that day's events. It was with immense relief that as I scanned the programme, I could see the speakers listed did _not_ include one Severus Snape. He was not even listed as giving the introduction. A surreptitious scan of the throng in front of me further told me he was not present.

I felt my shoulders relax minutely. I should have known he was far too illustrious to deign to join a silly talk on plants, as he might deem it. I'd like to contend absolutely no part of me was secretly disappointed at his lack of involvement, but it would be a lie. Such toing and froing of thoughts and feelings I was unaccustomed to. I sometimes felt like the proverbial yo-yo.

There was refreshment on hand so I picked up a cup and saucer filled with steaming hot tea and Neville and I lurked off to the side for a moment or two. I didn't recognise any of the faces around me, but Neville pointed out some of the more luminous of them. I felt a minor pang of envy as I detected the enthusiasm in Neville's tone. I wasn't sure I remembered what it was like to feel part of something so… professional and academic, I supposed.

After some moments, people started filtering through a set of double-doors. Neville and I followed, finding ourselves in a grand, circular chamber. We took our seat on the wooden benches which faced a small dais at the front of the room. I conjured a scroll of parchment, ready to take notes. All around the room _Dicto-quills_ were poised at the ready, but I conjured myself an ink-pot instead. I much preferred to take my own notes and make my own observations as necessary.

After a lull, when everyone was seated, the doors suddenly sprang wide and I nearly flinched violently, fully expecting it might be my nemesis. It wasn't. Theobald Ridley actually appeared on the stage instead.

I envied each speaker one after the other. I dislike feeling envious, because I sometimes feel it engenders a lack of self-awareness and responsibility. Of course, I would love to be considered an expert in my field. To have a field, even! I would love to stand at the front of a room and expound to expectant faces who respected my opinion, my work — my enthusiasm. What did I have instead? But there was no real need to be envious. Only _I_ could forge my path in life. I did not have to be held back— there was nothing that predisposed it be so. Or so I hoped.

In any case, envy was perhaps a step up from the danger of resentment. I had not fallen quite that low.

There was a break around mid-afternoon and it was only as most got to their feet that I chanced another furtive glance around. He was still not there. A trolley appeared laden with all manner of biscuits and cakes and there was a veritable surge towards it, by mostly men, it must be said. Even Neville had disappeared frantically into the melee. Left standing there, and feeling somewhat ineffectual in the process, I took myself off out into the entrance hall in search of the facilities. It was as I was returning to the chamber that I spotted Albert in his little room off the reception desk.

'Miss Granger!' he cried, motioning me inside. 'What a pleasure to see you, again!'

I stepped inside with a smile — a smile that turned faintly awkward when he shut the door behind me and indicated I should sit down. 'Hello, Albert. I'm actually attending the seminar so —'

'Oh, you have a few moments yet, I'm sure.'

He was probably right; we could hear the tones of conversation still milling out from the chamber. I felt slightly exposed, though, lingering outside the safety of the chamber, and all of a sudden, my neck started prickling uncomfortably. Sybil Trelawney would surely have deemed it a _sign_.

Indeed, as it transpired, Albert had barely seated himself when the door suddenly flew open.

'Fucking Herbologists,' came the irritated muttering of a voice behind me.

I closed my eyes despairingly. I heard the door click shut and then there was silence. I turned stiffly in my chair to see he was looking directly at me. I was gratified to note the widening of his eyes, and not least the incongruity of Severus Snape standing there with two cream puffs in his hands. And if I'm not mistaken, there was mild consternation in his expression, too. Fleeting, but noticeable, and much enjoyed, if truth be told.

'Granger,' he said blankly, crossing over and placing one of the cakes down next to Albert.

'Good afternoon,' I greeted evenly.

'To what do we owe the pleasure? Don't tell me you've had a change of heart _already_?'

He sat down and considered me with a raised brow. I know I blushed violently. How dare he so flippantly reference our last meeting in front of the old man, I thought resentfully.

'I have not,' I replied crisply. 'I am here attending the seminar, of course.'

He frowned contemplatively. _'Indeed…_ Forgive me, I had not realised professional development was so very necessary in your role as a… Ah, what was it you do, again?'

I ground my teeth together, refusing to give him any more than that.

'Miss Granger works in the Ministry, Severus,' Albert admonished, oblivious entirely to the reality of the conversation.

'Of course, silly me.'

I smiled tightly, both frustrated and amused at the false innocence being displayed.

'And entirely wasted there, I'm sure,' Albert continued, creaking to his feet to potter about at the kettle at the far end of the room.

I half expected a derisive snort from the dark man opposite me, but he ignored the comment. 'Longbottom invited you, no doubt,' he observed instead.

If there was anything remotely speculative in his tone, I'm afraid I may I have imagined it. I nodded simply, studying him in a way I hoped was polite, and not obvious. I had to blink away to avoid distraction.

'Tea, Miss Granger?' Albert called.

'Thank you, no; I'd, ah, better get back,' I said, getting to my feet, a little regretfully I admit, but then I found myself smirking despite myself. 'I'll leave you to your, ah, cream puff,' I murmured in an undertone, looking at the man seated before me.

His composure didn't flicker. 'I suppose I could always be persuaded to... _let_ you share it with me.'

I stilled initially, and then allowed a glare. That look I felt was answer enough to indicate my exasperation. How he loved to infuriate me — to engage that part of me that was constantly poised to attack at any perceived incidence of condescension or patronisation from the opposite sex. And how he loved to do it when he knew I would not fully retaliate. Poor Albert still stood at the sink pottering with his cups, for Merlin's sake.

The irony, and it was a secret irony that I perversely enjoyed, was that he still did not fully understand the true effect he roused in me. I'm sure he wouldn't have said half the things he did if he had. I know this, because I broached this with him some time later — to see if my interpretation of it was correct. He thought it was all pure entertainment, with no idea of what he was truly cultivating.

I was too impressed by his skilled, deadpan humour to be offended. My irritation stemmed from a different source. He did not understand that I should very much like to share that cream puff with him. And perhaps, even, that I might end up spending a heated moment or two wondering what it might be like to actually _be_ that cream puff.

He thought he had a handle on everything, that one. Severus Snape knew his own mind; who would argue with that? It wouldn't be long before I showed him otherwise.

I made no response to his jibe. I simply turned swiftly to the door to avoid any further interaction. Closing my eyes against the ridiculousness of it all, I made to cross the hall back to the chamber.

'Granger?'

I turned to see him now in the doorway. He pulled the door behind him and stepped forward. 'Our other business?' he prompted quietly.

I feigned mild disinterest. 'Yes?'

'If you wish to discuss it, I shall be in my office later.'

Ah, seriousness, finally. I paused for thought. 'I regret I have a prior engagement following the seminar. Another time, perhaps?'

He nodded. 'Very well.'

The subsequent narrowing of his eyes may also have been imagined, but then he was gone.

It was a childish route to have taken, I decided as I took my seat next to Neville. I'd cut my nose off to spite my face. I'd relegated the cause of the Augureys behind my emotional attachments. I'd done exactly what I thought I could rise above.

Did I suppose that he even cared? Did I suppose that he might now spend time pondering on what my engagement could be? Did I suppose that he might even consider it could be with the wizard next to me?

I rolled my eyes in dismay at myself. That is _exactly_ what I'd intended to imply.

Truly tragic behaviour, I thought grimly.

And it was worse than that; I couldn't concentrate for the remainder of the afternoon and had to resort to the services of a _Dicto_ - _quill_ after all.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading!


	22. Twenty Two

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Twenty Two**

It was around seven o'clock on a rather bitter evening that I was once more traipsing up the steps to the Society. I'd waited a day, for respectability's sake, following my immaturity at the seminar, and now we'd agreed to meet. A terse reply to my inquiry had informed me he would be incumbent in his office.

The building at large was, of course, rather dark and empty at this time, but the doors opened for me without resistance. I paused momentarily in the grand entrance hall and wondered, not for the first time, if he might give me a tour of the building one day.

He never did, by the way.

Once I got to his office, I didn't bother knocking — I just walked in. Dithering would have meant dwelling on how to begin, and feeling somewhat self-conscious about our last meeting, I decided it would be better to just get straight in there.

'Working late, again?' I greeted airily. 'You might as well start living here, you know.'

Severus was sat behind his desk, quill in hand. He paused and flicked a glance towards me and that's when comprehension dawned. I could have hexed myself for my stupidity. It was so obvious.

' _Oh_ …' I drew out a long breath of wonder. 'You _do_ live here, don't you?'

It all made sense — I wondered why it had not occurred to me before. I could have kicked myself for missing it.

'Indeed,' he replied, unfazed. 'The position comes with a suite of rooms.'

His quill continued scratching. I took a seat in front of his desk and just stared despairingly at the top of his head. Why could he not have just told me that piece of information? Why did that, like everything else with him, have to be such a firmly closed door? It made absolute perfect sense for him to live at the Society.

'And of course, it comes with a house-elf too,' I pointed out dryly.

He paused again. 'Problem, Granger? Perhaps _you_ would prefer to come and wait on me of an evening, instead?'

I scowled at him. 'You could always try waiting on yourself for a change,' I grumbled under my breath.

'Until the day comes where you manage to entirely outlaw house-elf slavery, I'll continue as I am, thank you.'

'And what will you do after that?' I wasn't sure I anticipated there could be full eradication of it in my lifetime, mind.

'Hmm… _Then_ I shall get myself a wife.'

I burst out an indignant laugh and he smirked.

'I have my own views on the institution of marriage, mind, and I —'

He interrupted with a groan. 'Please leave something intact for us mere mortals, eh, Granger?'

I smiled, pleased to have matched his repartee. 'Good luck trying to find someone willing to take _you_ on.'

I was so pleased with my wit I almost missed the little, pointed, askance look he gave me. My cheeks suddenly were violently aflame and I felt almost numb with embarrassment. I should have known much better than to walk headlong into that one. He had the grace to not smirk too openly at my discomfort — I'll give him that, at least.

'Ha ha,' I muttered grimly. 'May we attend to the matter at hand?'

He dropped his quill and sank back against his chair, sighing. 'Very well; but you will not like what I'm about to say…'

'What do you mean?' I enquired with foreboding. His mood appeared to have changed all of a sudden. I felt my face crumple into exasperation. ' _Please_ don't tell me you went to see Cresswell alone? I thought I made it clear —'

' _Granger_ ,' he interrupted long-sufferingly, 'will you allow me a moment or two to get a word in?'

I allowed a little huff of acquiescence.

'Word has reached me that Cresswell has scarpered.'

I stared at him, hard. ' _When_ did word reach you?'

'A few days ago —'

I flew to my feet with indignation. 'And you waited this long to tell me? He was our main lead and—'

He cast _Silencio_ on me.

He rose and approached me with somewhat of a steely glint. 'My dear Granger you are rapidly trying my patience.' His hands alighted on my shoulders and he nudged me back into my chair. 'Now you will remain silent until I see fit to unleash you.'

He said the last part with infinite satisfaction. I glared up at him and mouthed that he should release me at once. Evidently, he was a good lip-reader, for he sat casually on the edge of his desk and appraised me. 'Or what?' he asked with supreme unconcern.

I simply glared once more, which amused him to no end. Eventually he stood up with a dry chuckle. 'Surely a witch of your lofty expertise can undo a simple _Silencing_ spell?'

By Merlin I was trying. But it was no simple spell, the bastard had cast more of a curse.

'Cresswell has scarpered, there is little we can do about that. I haven't yet verified this, so we may have to do some fact-checking for ourselves. We do not know, of course, why or how quickly he left. Did we spook him at Friston Forest? Has he left of his own accord, even? If we visit his house, will it transpire to be a trap?'

He paced in front of the fire as he spoke.

'Quite likely,' I breathed out, having finally removed the spell. 'They know we are on to them.'

'Ah, a contribution, finally.'

I ignored him and sprang out of the chair. 'But what they may not necessarily realise is that we are pursuing them _together_.'

He narrowed his eyes at me. 'You don't think they would have put two and two together after that incident in the Forbidden Forest?'

'Why should they? Our faces were hidden, furthermore, we've given no other indication of our co-operation. If anything, Cresswell believes I'm after _you_.'

He contemplated for several moments, and I continued on.

'If it is a trap, I think we should bait it and see what happens.'

'That's what you think, is it?' He looked far from convinced.

'Yes, it is.'

He shrugged his shoulders, flippantly. 'Fine; come, let us grab our cloaks and we shall be on our way.'

'I don't mean _now_.' I folded my arms impatiently.

'Oh, my mistake, you do intend to think this through?'

I rolled my eyes. 'Yes!' My mind was whirring nineteen to the dozen. 'We'll double-bluff them. It will be _our_ trap… I could… I could borrow Harry's Invisibility Cloak—'

I was interrupted by a loud, pained groan. He almost had his head in his hands.

'Fine, no Invisibility Cloak. What bright ideas do _you_ have?'

'We're fucked, Granger; let's face it.'

I was somewhat taken aback at this unusually defeatist attitude. I wasn't sure how to respond to it, so I ignored it. 'Must you be so uncouth?' I asked instead.

'Must you be so uptight?'

'Must you be so… infuriating!'

' _You_ _drive_ _me_ _to_ _it_.'

'Well, excuse me!' I whirled around and headed straight for the door, feeling I could engage in far more productive endeavours than stand around trading insults all night. What an obnoxious mood he was in! I'd got nearly to the bottom of the stairs into the foyer before he finally sounded after me.

'Wait… Hang on, Hermione.'

The only reason I halted was because he had used my given name. It always was one of the few signs that indicated he was being earnest for once. Still is, in fact.

He approached me on the stairs. 'You won't do anything silly?'

'Silly?' I ground out.

'Yes; you won't go to Cresswell's alone?'

'Because, naturally, I'm only capable of doing things that are silly,' I retorted resentfully, turning my back on him.

He sighed at length.

I paused and closed my eyes. 'Sorry; I know you didn't mean it like that.' I looked at him. 'What's wrong?'

He raised an eyebrow at me.

'You've had a bad day, clearly…' I stated evenly.

I think I'd got to know him well enough by then to decipher his degrees of grumpiness. And grumpiness devoid of any humour was the most telling.

He surveyed me with narrowed eyes. 'Maybe…' he replied quietly.

I tried not to despair outwardly that he would not elaborate. And there could be nothing gained from prodding, of course—protracted prodding was not useful whatsoever.

I considered for a moment and decided to chance my arm. 'Perhaps you need a change of scene. Why don't you show me where the best place is in Edinburgh to get a drink?'

'You think _I_ would know?' He looked mildly hesitant.

'Come… It's dark, cold, and we're surrounded by Muggles; no one will ever know.'

When he still made no move, I turned on my heel and stepped down the remaining stairs. ' _Now_ ,' I called behind me, my tone brooking no further argument. I was determined we would reach a consensus on our action by the end of the evening.

I stood out in the street until he appeared togged up for the elements. I half wondered if he would have left me standing there all night, but there he was. We walked in silence for some time. It was somewhat awkward; I didn't know where we were going and I'm not sure he did either.

Eventually I had to break the silence. 'Um, are we just going to keep walking or…?'

'There is an establishment here that Albert mentioned in the past. I am hardly one for frequenting the city's nightlife, after all.'

I smiled to myself. I wasn't one for frequenting _any_ nightlife. We went inside and, without too much argument over who was to pay, managed to order two drinks. We opted for a somewhat shadowy corner where I felt we could not be overheard.

'Get that down you,' I instructed, nodding at his ale.

I allowed him one gulp before I dove straight in with my second plan of action. He might have winced but I can't be sure.

'Let _me_ go to Cresswell's,' I urged. At his rapidly darkening expression, I ploughed on quickly. 'Let me go there in my professional capacity. I'll make up a report about some improperly kept Category Four creatures and I'll go there with several colleagues to investigate. If anyone is watching they can hardly ambush a team of Ministry employees and it will provide necessary cover for me to have a look around.'

He shook his head doubtfully. 'And when they find no evidence of any Category Four creatures?'

'Please,' I scoffed. 'I spend too much time traipsing round the country following up falsified reports which, the majority of the time, turn out to be neighbour disputes. "My neighbour is keeping a Runespoor locked up and threatened me with it." When we go there, no Runespoor in sight, but we do get faced with a tirade about a whole history of perceived slights instead.'

He simply stared at me for a minute. Wouldn't it be nice if he could be blown away by my ingenuity, I thought; bowled over by my nous. Except, what he eventually uttered was…

'"Professional capacity", eh…?' He gave a disbelieving flick of his eyebrows.

I set my glass down with a thud. 'Yes,' I stated warningly.

'If you say so.' He shrugged minutely. 'It could work, I suppose. I'll leave this in your hands, Granger; I just hope they are up to the task.'

I didn't bother dignifying that with a response. It would be fine. I could easily draft an anonymous Owl detailing an incident and the Ministry was duty bound to respond. The only slight risk was that I could be overlooked for the task, but I had confidence in being able to engineer it in my direction.

'I will surprise you one day.' I smiled to myself, relishing the challenge.

'Undoubtedly,' I heard him mutter dryly into his glass.

His tone noticeably caught my attention, and I think he sought he quickly to divert it.

'Did you enjoy the seminar?' he asked suddenly.

I blinked my thoughts away. 'Of course; it was fascinating.'

He didn't look so entirely convinced. 'Many make use of our facilities, so we have quite the programme throughout the year, including our own events, of course. If you wish to attend any of them I will see to it that it is done.'

I found myself struck dumb for a moment. 'Oh, well, thank you, Severus; that is very generous and much appreciated.'

The small ball of warmth inside me that appeared to be now ever-present during his company morphed into a wave and I hoped that my face did not flush too hotly. But it was a wave that brought over me a crushing realisation. I watched him glance casually around, as if he had not just made a sweeping gesture of note, and the sudden rush of feeling that I had... I realised stupidly that I was in love with him. I also realised that I should have known this before now —that I'd been deluding myself it was an infatuation.

I suppose I had known. Clearly, pushing him away that night after Hogwarts had been shutting the proverbial gate after the horse had bolted.

It was a cold realisation too. I felt the warmth in me disintegrate to an almost cold, clammy sweat. He had not responded to my thanks or even acknowledged them in any small way. He didn't need to. The way he avoided me told me all I needed to know. I knew him, I understood him, and that seemed the most precious thing I could ever hope for. But it would never be _all_ I would hope for. For whilst I could desire that connection of empathy and be grateful for it, I could not ignore that more physical connection we had. I would not be satisfied with one without the other.

Should he have touched me in that moment, for whatever mundane reason, it would have scalded me. Should he have whispered my name, by Merlin, I think I would have broken down.

I blinked back into the present. It was not something to dwell on in his presence. He had made clear his own views on our involvement, after all.

'Are you quite well?' He was looking at me now with a frown.

'Oh, um, sorry, what… did you say something?'

'You will exercise caution at Cresswell's?'

Far from take umbrage, I felt a small smile form. 'Of course.'

I looked wistfully into my glass. If only I'd exercised caution elsewhere in my life, I thought.

The execution of my plan turned out to be really easy. I drafted a letter, anonymous, of course, pretending that an illegally bred dragon was being kept at Cresswell's address in the Dyfi Forest. Owing to the seriousness of the allegation, I envisaged calling to the property with a few colleagues. Should there be sufficient evidence, and should we be refused access, we would return with the services of an Auror and gain entry forcefully. I hadn't quite explained this part to Severus, but then, he hadn't asked. I wasn't sure how I would reasonably justify the use of an Auror, but I decided I would make that call once there.

The Owl was in the in-tray before I'd arrived at work in the morning. I purposefully ignored it and waited for someone else to sift through the morning post. It worked like clockwork.

'Granger, here's one for you to look into.' The scroll was tossed onto my desk.

I wasted no time. I called on two colleagues — two of the least likely to ask awkward questions and told them to ready themselves for a potential Category Four incident. One ministerial Portkey later and we stood in front of the little cottage.

Events rather unravelled from there.

The cottage was silent, and no signs of life were apparent. I approached the front door and rapped officiously on it. As anticipated, no one answered, and so I indicated we should commence examining the external perimeter of the building. I was walking around the rear garden, wondering if I'd have to resort to pretending to spot dragon faeces, when my name was called.

'Er, Granger?'

'Yes?'

'I think someone is in there.'

I crossed over to where they stood peering through a small window. There was a small gap in the curtains which I looked through.

I felt my stomach clench uncomfortably. Turning, I made for the front door and spelled it straight open. I stepped inside, but it was immediately obvious what we were dealing with.

Cresswell was lying dead on the floor.

There was no need for me to check. I'd seen enough dead bodies in my lifetime to know one when I saw one.

'Send for the Aurors,' I called out grimly behind me.

I glanced around the room, knowing I could not now rifle through or disturb anything. There was no real sign of a disturbance, but I knew in my own mind that his death may not have been a natural one. Thwarted, it was only as I turned to go that it caught my eye — the sight of my own name in looping handwriting. It was on an envelope propped up against a vase on a small stand near to the door.

It was instinctive. When I was sure no one was looking, I snatched it up and shoved it into my robe. It was only later, as I sat in the Auror office waiting to give my statement as to what had occurred that I considered how much trouble I'd waded into. And now I had to decide precisely what I was going to reveal. The edited truth or the real truth? All the while I felt the small weight of the missive in my robe.

The missive, which, I could not open until some hours later when I was finally allowed to go home. I'd barely managed to shut the door before I carefully, very carefully, peeled it open. Contained inside was a small number of photographs.

I laid them out one by one on my kitchen table and felt immediately sick to my stomach. As quickly as I'd laid them out, I snatched them back up and put them back inside my robe. Then, I hurried over to the sink and gulped down a slug of water. Closing my eyes, I took several deep breaths and urged my mind to focus.

My decision as to what I would do next was very important and would have all-encompassing implications. Things would be set on a course that was irrevocable.

Rightfully, my decision should have been to return to the Aurors and divulge everything —completely and utterly.

I didn't.

Instead, I made sure my envelope was safely stowed, then I threw up my hood and Disapparated straight to Edinburgh.

It was later than my usual calling time and the Society was in darkness. However, this time the doors would not open for me. Using a _Lumos_ charm, I ventured around the back of the building, feeling those living quarters he referred to must surely have their own access and egress. I peered upwards and my only option appeared to be a small external staircase that lead to an arched wooden door at the top. I rushed up it and banged on the door. Breathing heavily, I listened hard for sound within. Nothing. I banged again and waited. Nothing. Resisting the urge to stamp my foot, I unleashed my wand ready to blast the thing open, when the sound of a lock clicking forestalled me.

He sighed long-sufferingly. 'Of course, it's _you_.'

I didn't register his scowl. My hand instinctively went up to my robe, where I knew the envelope was held and I had to swallow away the dread before I could speak.

'We have a huge problem, Severus.'

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing : )


	23. Twenty Three

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Twenty Three**

'Cresswell is dead.'

I had been shown into his rooms, somewhat reluctantly, I feel, but he could not have failed to note the urgency in my tone. And when I pronounced Cresswell's fate, he paled noticeably — a somewhat satisfying vindication of my intrusion, I thought.

I moved to stand by the roaring fireplace, in the hope of chasing away the chill that had pervaded my bones ever since discovering Cresswell's body. 'He was lying there — on the floor,' I pressed on grimly. 'We called the Aurors, of course…' I considered the flames for several moments, before closing my eyes and shaking my head. 'Merlin, I don't know if I've done the right thing.' I brought my hands up to my face and sighed. 'I, ah, pretended I didn't know who he was.'

I glanced at him warily. He just stared at me, so I ploughed on, knowing I had to get to the crux sooner or later.

'Not _only_ have I lied to the Aurors,' I blurted, 'but I removed evidence from the scene, too.'

I pulled out the envelope from within my robes and opened it. I couldn't bring myself to look at the photographs once more, so I simply shoved the missive at him. I watched closely as he took out the photographs and studied them.

The only concession he made as to their subject was a grim tighten of his jaw. He stared at them for several moments, before he slapped them down onto a nearby table.

'For fuck's sake,' he hissed, throwing himself down into a chair. He leaned forwards, putting his head in his hands.

For a moment I only watched, somewhat gratified that even he could not remain unflappable for once. But when he continued to make no further movement, I went to him and knelt down. I couldn't speak for a moment, the frustration of the situation weighed too heavily. I also felt indescribably sick with worry.

'Severus?' I whispered. 'I'm sorry; I think this is partly my fault – for pushing things too far.'

He lowered his hands immediately, peering down at me strangely for what seemed like an age. He appeared to be looking for something before speaking. It took everything I had to meet his stare.

'Then…' He began, his voice faltering marginally, 'you do not believe that I…'

I reached for his hand instinctively and felt my grip flex anxiously — the warm, slightly rough feel of it giving me something to concentrate on.

' _No_ ,' I hissed, aghast. 'I don't.'

He said nothing in reply.

Of course, I did not believe those photographs. Photographs which appeared to indicate incontrovertibly that Severus Snape was at the heart of an illegal smuggling ring. It was not him overseeing the packing up of Augurey feathers or cultivating Ashwinder eggs. It was not him who had orchestrated all this. And it was not him who would have duped me so utterly and comprehensively.

I could not do anything but trust him — for my own sanity if nothing else.

'Clearly, it is the Polyjuice again,' I ventured with quiet confidence. 'They have staged this, for what reason, I am at a loss, but...'

Whatever I intended after that, the words died in my throat. He watched me silently, but his eyes spoke wildly. I detected surprise and relief, gratitude and determination. There was something soft there too that, to my surprise, lingered a moment. I wondered at it and my heart seemed to pause in anticipation at what he might say next.

'I am not worthy, Granger; but I will not let you down. You have my word on that.'

He pulled his hand free and got to his feet, retreating to the far side of the room. I was stuck where I was perched for several seconds, pondering on that cryptic remark. I bit my lip and wiped my clammy hands on my robe, raising up off the floor. I watched him down a measure of Firewhisky, whereupon he rounded on me. Already I could see the moment, whatever it was, had passed and he was focused once more.

'You did right by removing that letter from the scene.' He nodded to himself with a small ironic smirk tugging at his lips. 'For surely that is what they intended.'

I shrugged.

He fixed me with a piercing look. 'And you surely can deduce to what end their intentions were?'

Suddenly, I couldn't look at him. I felt myself sink into a chair, thinking this whole situation was quietly getting away from us.

'You will have to do it,' he urged, coming forwards.

My head snapped upwards.

'You _have_ to.'

I felt myself spring to my feet. ' _No_! I'm not taking those photos to the Aurors, Severus! I don't care what they intended.' I folded my arms and stubbornly turned away.

'They will expect you to act on this, Hermione.'

I felt my eyes close.

'The opportunity is gone,' I countered.

'Irrelevant,' he remarked. 'You can submit them anonymously. They do not need to know the full story yet.'

I faced him, gaping in disbelief. 'They will _arrest_ _you_.'

He shrugged, which served to infuriate me.

'I can't just Owl the Aurors some incriminating photographs of you and then walk away! Who knows how long it will take them to work out the truth? It will be all over the papers — everywhere! Your position _here_ would be untenable, for starters.'

'Temporarily… I know you will get to the truth.'

I scoffed loudly at his glibness and stepped towards him. 'And what about Cresswell, hmm?'

He gave me a hard stare.

'Even the Aurors are going to connect the dots eventually and wonder whether _you_ had Cresswell silenced'.

'I did not kill Cresswell, therefore, they cannot convict me of it.'

' _How_ are we supposed to prove the use of Polyjuice at this stage?'

'This is all merely a distraction on their part — a sideshow. Those who wish to frame me know very well I could have any number of alibis for the events that have taken place — irrefutable alibis. They will smell a rat if you do not report me, Granger; and we will lose any element of surprise that we may have left.'

I wondered how someone could be so simultaneously sanctimonious and selfless. I watched him mutinously and considered the source of his vehemence. Was this sense? Cold logic? Or plain stupidity?

'You would dig this hole, would you — for the sake of the Augureys? Really?'

He did not answer straightaway and, to my consternation, he even avoided a direct answer.

'Something obviously has gone wrong… Most likely they discovered Cresswell's duplicity and realising it is too late to plug the gap, they are looking to mitigate the damage and retreat underground till the heat dissipates. They took their opportunity, Granger. _We_ won't get another one.'

I turned back to the fire and sighed heavily. It seemed to me to be a venture fraught with risk. Furthermore, this path seemed blurry to me in a way it clearly wasn't for him. I didn't like feeling two steps behind him. I found my eyes wandering slightly to the nearby shelves and furniture, wondering wistfully if I could not have encountered these environs under better circumstances.

'I don't like this,' I muttered grimly, wrapping my arms around my waist.

'You've become boring in your old age, Granger.'

I ignored his jibe, feeling I didn't have the energy to fire one back. It was his usual flippancy, of course, and I took no real offence, but the word 'boring' pricked at me nevertheless.

'I hope you know what you are doing,' I grumbled to myself as I spun around, snatched up the envelope and made for the door.

I only halted because I happened to notice that portentous glitter in his eye, even from where I was stood.

'What?' I demanded tersely.

'Well… Leaving already?' he observed with a raised eyebrow. 'It's my last night of liberty, you know.'

The smirk on his face caused me to close my eyes and shake my head ruefully. 'In your dreams.'

He inclined his head in a concessionary gesture. 'My apologies; you will share a drink with me, though, before you depart?'

I faltered. I knew I'd be better off taking my leave. Still, there were a lot of things I knew I'd be better off doing, but I never did them. My desire for his company was far more pressing. The challenge of engaging with him too persuasive. 'Very well,' I replied evenly. 'I'll have tea, please.'

I deliberately ignored his frown of disgust and moved over to the window to look out over the twinkling lights of the city. It was a bit too dark in these rooms, I decided uncomfortably. It was always hard enough dealing with him on my own patch, let alone in _his_. Tea was a good call.

In time, he appeared at my elbow. 'Your… _tea_.'

'Thank you.'

I turned back to the window, unsure of anything to say — unsure of what he might be intending by keeping me here. He volunteered nothing more, which irritated me slightly. Perhaps it was those prickling thoughts disposed me to make a dry observation.

'Never thought I'd ever find my way into your humble abode.'

He gave a low hum of agreement. 'Not many do…'

I glanced behind to where he was sat, feeling myself smile despite myself. 'I suppose I wasn't meant to either.'

'You weren't meant to do a lot of things, Granger; yet, you did them, anyway.'

I turned around fully and leaned against the window sill. 'I'm an independent woman — _I_ can do what I want.'

I smiled further when he frowned at my pompous tone. It was only brief, until his usual blank expression returned.

'If only that were really true, hmm?'

I blinked at that, recognising the irony in his voice. He was right. It was a fallacy, of course. If only I _could_ have done whatever I wanted. I would have walked out of the Ministry, post-haste. I would have told my superiors what I really thought of them. And where the man opposite was concerned… _Merlin._

I nearly laughed aloud and pressed my hand to my mouth for a moment. 'Maybe it's for the best.'

'Undoubtedly,' he scoffed.

I considered the pang of wistfulness that pulsed in me. 'Perhaps we're both lacking in spontaneity.'

He actually shivered, and I did laugh then. Spontaneity had served me somewhat well when dealing with him in the past. I thought of our first night together. That had been uncharacteristically spontaneous of me. I searched for it within me at that moment, but I could only find an over-arching, creeping sense of increased dread.

I set my tea down. 'Severus, I'm still not sure this is the best thing for us to do. There _must_ be another way…'

He rose to his feet shaking his head. 'It will be fine.'

'Will it?' I demanded. 'I don't see what there is to gain… Other than to smash your reputation to smithereens.'

'There's a reason they are targeting me, Granger. Mark me, once the wheels are set in motion _something_ will happen… I know it. You will know it when you see it.'

'And what if they throw you in Azkaban in the mean time?' _What if I fail on my part?_ I wondered.

He sighed. 'Your concern is gratifying, but you need not worry yourself on my account.'

He spoke softly, a bit too softly for my liking and I had to fight to keep my thoughts clear. He was almost perpetually derisive, yet the more time I spent with him, the more I saw through it. I could see that he did look gratified and I supposed he was not entirely used to the concern of others. What a novelty it must seem, I realised. I wondered again at the vehemence of his actions and hoped it was not born of some perverse need to wind me up into anxiety. Was he now enamoured of my attention? Did he wish to see how he could push it this way and that?

Or perhaps the War had given him a martyr complex? Did he now thrive on being seen as the persecuted? Consistently misunderstood and mistrusted?

I told myself to calm down and think objectively. He was not so much of a narcissist — I knew him enough to know that.

Therefore, perhaps he really was as dedicated to the cause as I was.

Suddenly, his hand touched my arm and I stifled a flinch.

'Very well…' I murmured as confidently as I could. 'I will deliver the photographs to the Aurors.'

He nodded his agreement and his hand fell away. I nearly did something stupid then. Perhaps it was the dwelling on spontaneity, but I nearly asked him if a man on his so-called last night of liberty might want company for a bit longer. All night long, even.

I buried it, however.

'Come,' he said gently. 'I think it would be prudent to bid you goodnight.'

I felt my cheeks heat and I wondered if my thoughts had been written all over my face. More likely he simply sensed it too, this now ever-present pull, force, or tension between us, whatever it was, whenever we were together. Or, perhaps, even when we were apart…

I could have screamed at him then in frustration. I wanted to shout at him to take me in his arms and do _something_ to assuage the heat and the churning and the unease within me. But more than that, for him to want it as much as I did — to want _me_ above all else. To need me.

That was it — to need me.

Instead, all I said was 'Good night, then.'

I headed to the door, somewhat grateful to have avoided making a fool of myself. 'I'll see you when I see you — good luck.'

He only nodded in reply.

I flew down the steps and did not stop for a single breath until I was back safely ensconced in my own abode. From there it was a night spent without sleep. I resorted to the comfort of the wine bottle, a few candles, and spread before me on my kitchen table, everything I had that linked to our investigation — maps, notes, my report, newspaper articles, and now those photographs. I made copies of them, packing one set into an envelope and using untraceable ink, marked it for the attention of the Auror office.

Then I set my mind to properly studying the subject matter of those photographs. The most damning, perhaps, showed Severus, or _a_ Severus, inspecting boxes and packages, the contents of which were unclear. However, in the context of the other photographs, it was obvious what they contained. One photograph was of some sort of crude order form — an order for five Runespoor eggs and three Augurey feathers — and at the bottom in spiky script was Severus Snape's signature. Order fulfilled.

The signature was an interesting point, of course, and one that I would have to investigate. To me it seemed a good likeness, but on deeper examination it could prove useful. I considered all the pictures at length, trying to establish any clues — any sign that might give away a location or a person.

Beyond the fact they had been in Cresswell's possession, there was nothing in the photographs that appeared to link him to the activities. Perhaps Cresswell was the photographer. What connections would the Aurors make? By sending the photographs to them anonymously, they would not know they had come from Cresswell. Therefore, Cresswell's death might remain an entirely separate matter.

And when I'd exhausted myself over the matter, my mind turned north to Edinburgh and I felt as though my brain ached. It was as I was thinking I should have ignored all my better judgement and simply took what I wanted (if only for one night) that I eventually dropped off to sleep.

I could only have had a few hours fitful rest before I was awake again, before dawn. I dressed quickly, forced myself to eat some breakfast, and then I headed off to the Ministry. There was a risk I could be traced if I simply took the envelope to the Owl Office and so I'd thought of a better idea. There was a public letterbox at the front of the Ministry that was emptied every morning and delivered to each department. It would be nothing to breeze past and slot it in and, as long as no one witnessed me do it, there could be no other way of determining how it came to be there.

So, there it was. I dropped it in quietly as I passed and headed into the Ministry in my usual manner. Once in the office I made myself a strong cup of coffee and I retreated to my desk to wait.

It was surely one of the worst working days of my life as I sat there sleepwalking through my tasks, just waiting. Waiting what for, I wasn't entirely sure.

Nothing happened. All day there was nothing out of the ordinary. No one said anything to me other than what was necessary. I trudged home wondering how on earth I was going to make it through the evening, let alone the night, not knowing what was going on.

Perhaps the Auror Office was particularly lazy about opening the post?

What eventually unfolded is that, sometime later, I was lying on the settee, forcing myself to read when the fire in the grate suddenly glowed bright green.

'Hermione, are you there?'

It was Harry.

'I'm here.'

His head bobbed in the fire and I could hear the barely contained exhilaration in his voice. Reflexively, I felt my stomach clench.

'You'll never guess what…' He said in a rush. 'A team of Aurors went out to apprehend Snape today — _Severus_ Snape!'

'Oh my…' I felt a prickle of guilt at being duplicitous with Harry.

'That isn't the best part — the office gossip is that he's fronting some organisation trafficking potions ingredients.'

I said nothing.

'Your work, Hermione! Whether Snape is guilty or not, this means _you_ were right!'

And there it was — the beginning of the end for this tale. The beginning of the end for this juncture in my life. Change was coming. The ball had started rolling. It was Severus and I who had set it on its course, and yet...

Neither of us would entirely avoid getting trampled underfoot by it.

* * *

AN: Thanks for your patience and kind words : )


	24. Twenty Four

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Twenty Four**

The day after Severus's arrest I spent mostly feeling sick with unease. I, of course, knew nothing of what was going on. The only link I had to the Auror Office was Harry and Ron, neither of whom were assigned to the investigation. I felt too guilty about my own deception to actively lean on them for gossip. Therefore, I was at the mercy of their generosity.

The arrest had occurred too late in the day for inclusion in the _Evening Prophet_ , but come the arrival of the _Daily Prophet_ that morning, it was front page news. I could barely look at it — his grim set eyes staring fiercely at me — let alone read the text. When I could bring myself to read it, it was clear the details were still somewhat scant, but the speculation not so much.

I felt my stomach twist with dread and frustration. I knew if he were not released quickly, the papers would dine out on this story for some time.

I dragged myself into work unable to shake off my anxiety. I sat uselessly at my desk and wondered at what might be unfolding only a few floors away. But of course, he could handle himself. There was little doubt about that.

I had enough wit about me to notice my superiors spent most of the morning ensconced in a meeting. I wished for another _Extendable Ear_ opportunity, but one never arose. I could only imagine their discussion — how best to distance the Ministry from their previous association with Severus Snape, no doubt.

I anticipated, or hoped, that come the evening he would be released — either without charge or pending further investigation. The day came and went, and so did the evening, and then nothing.

When I grabbed the _Daily Prophet_ on my way into the Ministry the next morning, I felt my legs tremble with dread. There were _pages_ devoted to it. Not only that, but the paper had done its digging and had identified Severus's professional history with Cresswell, Cresswell's previous form with regard to illegal trafficking, _and_ posited a link to his murder. They stopped short of saying Severus had undertaken the killing, but it was implied.

From there, things went from bad to worse quite quickly. The next morning it was announced Severus had already been transferred to Azkaban to await a trial. I could only goggle for a good ten minutes at the list of charges that had been presented to the Wizengamot. Theft; smuggling; _fraud_ … and the icing on the cake was that there was an ongoing investigation into whether he was involved in Cresswell's death.

It seemed to me they could not have charged him based on only those photographs, so what else had they unearthed?

I turned the page and found myself looking at a photograph of the building housing the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. Theobald Ridley stood on the steps, as if giving some sort of press conference. I scanned quickly through the accompanying text and found the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

The Society had taken the unprecedented move of removing their erstwhile leader without investigation, and into the breach had stepped a very willing Ridley. That, perhaps, was not unexpected. What I had not expected, on the other hand, was that Ridley should announce they had uncovered malpractice on their former leader's part at the Society and that the information had been passed to the Auror Office.

I threw the paper down as if it had burned me. I knew I wouldn't be able to stand it much longer. The thought of him in Azkaban...

What should I do? This was my perpetual refrain. I wished there was a way I could speak to Severus to find out what his thoughts were, but that was impossible.

I had to ignore the sense that this whole charade was slipping away from me - from us, even. Instead, I sought something far more useful to me. It was focus and determination and a cold sense of umbrage. I snatched up my cloak and bag and took off to Edinburgh straight away. I did not feel the icy blast as I Apparated into a slush of snow. I trudged around to the front of the building to find a large oak door was closed across the revolving door. I stepped up and banged my fist on the door, knowing full well it was fruitless.

The Society was shut.

Resisting to give the door an impotent kick, I turned and considered the quiet street before me. What I had intended if I had got inside the Society remained a mystery to me, therefore I could see I should perhaps be glad to be thwarted.

Perhaps I'd hoped to find Albert. In any case, the chances of him knowing anything were slim. There was only one other option in the short term, and that was to lean on Harry and Ron for information. They usually attended the Quidditch on a Saturday afternoon, so I headed to Grimmauld Place to await their return.

As it happened, I didn't even need them.

Ginny was making the tea when I thought I might be better at chancing my arm with her.

'Gin, have you, ah, been following the developments with the arrest of Severus Snape?'

'Of course,' she replied, shaking her head. 'Bit unexpected, wasn't it?'

'What does Harry think? Has he said anything?'

Ginny looked at me with a mild frown of interest.

I tried to keep my tone even rather than evasive. 'I just wonder if they have it wrong… You know I was investigating similar matters and I did not get the impression that, ah, Professor Snape was involved.'

'Harry's gutted,' she replied. 'From what he's heard the evidence is fairly watertight.'

'Watertight?' I repeated faintly.

 _Watertight_? I thought anxiously. A few photographs that were circumstantial at best?

'He's not supposed to talk about cases, of course,' continued Ginny conspiratorially. 'Apparently, Snape has been channelling his ill-gotten gains through the Society for Extraordinary Potioneers. The Aurors have seized their accounts and assets.'

I was momentarily dumbfounded.

'And the reason he has not been bailed is because they believe he may have killed that bloke you found.'

'George Cresswell,' I mumbled, mind whirring. 'That's a lot to accuse someone of…'

'Trouble is, he has previous, doesn't he?'

I dropped my gaze from hers then, not wanting her to see what I thought of that remark.

'Mind you, it seems even to me a bit of a leap to think he attended McGonagall's birthday party and then left to go and kill someone.'

My head snapped up and I gaped at her. 'Excuse me?'

'The Mediwizards know that Cresswell died that night.'

I got to my feet abruptly. 'What time exactly?'

Ginny narrowed her eyes at me. 'I don't know…'

'Thanks for the tea, Gin; I must go.'

I dashed out of the door and stood in the street unsure of what it was I needed to do, but knowing full well I had to think of something. Cresswell had been killed on the night of McGonagall's party, where Severus had been a guest and whose presence could be corroborated any number of times by others. But he'd left early, and so had I.

Why hadn't the Auror's asked me to corroborate what had happened after he'd left?

Either they were failing in their duty or… he hadn't told them.

I considered the latter. Why should he do that? I thought about the games he liked to play and wondered if he might not be taking some perverse pleasure in deliberately misleading the Aurors. Whatever it was, I could not allow it. The charges levelled at him were serious enough, but murder? This was too dangerous a game to play and I had the ability to release him of those charges. He would not me to reveal all our cards, I knew, but _I_ was prepared to play them.

Regardless of our cause, and regardless of what he might be playing at, I had to get him out.

Besides, I now knew what our missing piece of the puzzle was.

Theobald Ridley had been far too quick to play his own hand. Far too quick, indeed.

I Apparated to the Ministry and got into the lift to head to the Auror Office. Once there, I stepped into the foyer and headed straight to the reception desk.

'May I help you?' spoke the witch behind the desk, without looking at me.

'I'd like to speak to an Auror dealing with the murder of George Cresswell, please.'

She deigned to glance at me now. 'I'm afraid Auror Greenwood is not available at the moment.'

'I have information that may assist the investigation.'

She paused and considered me a moment. 'It's Hermione Granger, is it not?'

I nodded.

'Take a seat.'

I sat and tried not to fidget. It was all such a mess. I had one chance to convince them, and if that failed I'd have to tell them everything, including that I'd omitted certain information in my witness statement. That was not a prospect to be enthused about.

I waited nearly fifteen minutes before the door opened. In walked a tall, white-haired man with a somewhat deadpan countenance.

'I am Auror Greenwood, Miss Granger; what a pleasure.'

He held out his hand and I took it swiftly.

'Would you follow me?'

I nodded and we stepped into a small office, whereupon he proffered me a seat. 'Now, what can I do for you?'

'I understand you suspect Severus Snape may be implicated in the murder of George Cresswell?'

He shook his head, 'I'm not at liberty to discuss the case—'

'I can vouch for Se— for Mr Snape. I know he could not have killed him. I saw him after he left Hogwarts.'

'How do you know when Cresswell was killed? That detail has not been divulged.'

I winced for Harry; it would be obvious how I knew. I ignored the question. 'It was the night of the seventh, yes?'

'Miss Granger, Mr Snape has already advised he attended Minerva McGonagall's one hundredth birthday party. However, by Mr Snape's own account he left the Great Hall at ten o'clock.'

'What time was Cresswell killed?'

His lip curled slightly. 'How about you tell us what you know?'

I frowned inwardly. 'At half past ten I encountered Mr Snape in the library at Hogwarts. At approximately eleven o'clock we left Hogwarts for my home.'

There was somewhat of a pregnant pause.

'Together...?' I ignored the suggestive rise of his eyebrow.

'Yes; did Severus not tell you this?'

Auror Greenwood took out a pocketbook and a quill. 'You were in the company of Severus Snape from approximately 10:30pm until…?'

'Ah, midnight, when he left.'

I felt my insides squirm. It was not a large window of time, and I could only hope that Cresswell's death had not occurred later, otherwise I would be forced to unravel everything.

The Auror gave nothing away. I watched as he considered first his pocketbook and then me. 'You wish to make a formal statement as to this?'

I nodded. 'Of course.'

He continued to watch me with a look of circumspection. 'What is your relationship with Severus Snape, Miss Granger?'

I met his gaze with not a flinch. 'Is that really relevant?'

His eyes narrowed. 'Mr Snape still faces some serious charges; if I may offer some advice, I'd choose your company a tad more wisely.'

I felt my jaw slacken and I felt a rebuke form almost instantly on my tongue. He screeched his chair back, however, and snapped his pocketbook shut. I decided to say nothing.

'Is that all?' he asked, not sounding at all grateful for my input.

I nodded silently.

And that was it. I had to go home and wonder if I had done enough to get him released from Azkaban for the time being at least. The next morning brought nothing new in the _Daily Prophet_ and with a sinking heart I took myself off to Diagon Alley in search of some new books. It was the only activity I could entertain that would ease my thoughts. Nevertheless, the whole time I considered with mounting dread that I might have to return to the Auror Office and deposit all my notes and evidence. It might all come to an end and we would have achieved nothing. And no doubt, if they could find no other perpetrators, it would be swept under the carpet once more.

I wandered the shops uselessly for a few hours, before returning home empty-handed. I Apparated into my living room and was unfastening my cloak when a low voice spoke into the room.

' _Finally_.'

I squealed loudly in fright and twisted around. It was a mark of how much things had changed that I greeted his uninvited presence not with umbrage but with a wide smile. A smile that contained no small amount of relief. An unsettling amount of relief, actually.

'Severus!'

His eyes glittered in reply.

I threw my cloak carelessly to the side and stepped over to where he was sat in a chair, legs outstretched.

'They've released you.'

It was all I could I muster in amongst the uncomfortable clenching of my stomach as I surveyed him. I half expected a burst of sarcasm at such an obtuse observation, and yet, there was nothing.

'What happened?' I urged weakly, hoping he could not detect the full extent of my pleasure. He looked the same as he ever did, apart from a dark shadow around his jaw. It had not even been a week and yet I felt I was cataloguing his features as if I'd missed them.

Still he said nothing, but he did rise to his feet and stare down at me for several moments. There was a tinge of humour in his expression and I felt my eyes begin to narrow at it.

'What?' I demanded self-consciously.

He proffered his hand and I took it immediately, somewhat amused by his formality. My amusement flickered slightly when he made no move to shake my hand, but only to hold it. By now, I could feel my heart begin to thud a slow, almost painful rhythm.

Finally, he spoke. 'It was not necessary for you to supply me with an alibi, Granger.' He was almost smiling now — as if he was biting back laughter. 'Gossip like that will spread like wildfire, you know.'

I felt my cheeks darken slightly.

'Potter and Weasley are no doubt goggling over it as we speak.'

I ignored the fact he looked inordinately pleased by that prospect. Instead, I focused my irritation elsewhere. I pulled my hand free and put my hands on my hips. Was it really the thought of my reputation that had sent him to Azkaban?

'Severus, I value my privacy as much as anyone, but do you really think I'd sit by and let you languish in Azkaban to protect it? You should have told them, in the first place.'

I gave him a hard glare. 'If anything, you've made it look more suspicious.' I felt my expression melt into a smile to show I was not really concerned on this score.

I was about to demand once more that he tell me what happened, but I only managed a breath. His hands had come to my neck and he was kissing me. I let out a muffled sound of surprise, but I made no move to push him away. Rather, I stepped into him so that he might hold me and prolong our embrace. And in that fuzzy heated moment I hoped that it might be forever.

It wasn't.

He pulled away after a time. 'I apologise,' he murmured in a low tone.

It wasn't the time to be sorry, I decided, watching him. There would always be time enough later to be sorry.

I reached up to his shoulders, brooking no confusion as to my intention that we should continue. He did not question it. When I considered that moment afterwards, I knew something had changed. Something was different that time — something felt different. We held each other tightly, and the need felt deeper than ever, but there was something so gentle about it that I could feel myself trembling at the prospect of it.

I nearly did it; in a quick moment we took for breath, I nearly burst and told him how much I loved him. It would have been so very… Gryffindor of me to declare it so boldly and so wildly. It would have been a mistake, however, and it might have been luck that caused the words to catch and die breathlessly in my throat, unspoken.

Except, it wasn't really luck.

The incident was merely deferred.

Deferred until such time when the only matter left to resolve was the one that lingered between us.

And possibly the most complex matter of them all.

* * *

AN: Thanks for your support : )


	25. Twenty Five

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Twenty Five**

We lay together after, silently, as was our wont. Yet, this also felt different. His arm was underneath my shoulders and the tips of his fingers moved idly in my hair. I wondered if he knew how much I enjoyed the feel of his hand in my hair. Perhaps he was not even aware of his own movements.

It would have been easy to let my thoughts drift, but I tried to keep my mind focused. I didn't want to consider the implications of how his hand had come to be in my hair —not when I'd expressly told myself I would not engage with him again. So much for my resolve. I think I enjoyed too much the idea that it was something illicit to be a part of, when really, I should have used my common sense.

Instead, I distracted myself with thoughts of the Aurors and of Azkaban, but I made no move to speak, instead preferring the stillness and quiet.

To my mild surprise it was he who eventually broke the silence.

'I need to ask a favour, Granger.'

His voice vibrated pleasantly through my ribs.

I took a breath. 'Yes?'

'I appear to have fallen on hard times and am currently homeless. I wonder if I might impose upon you for a time?'

I froze, blinking up at the ceiling. ' _Homeless_?' I repeated dully.

'Indeed,' he replied with supreme unconcern.

I turned onto my side, propping myself up on my elbow to look at him with a bewildered expression.

His eyes looked me up and down before replying. 'I lost my right to my rooms in Edinburgh when they suspended my tenure.'

'I see… Well, of course, you may stay…' I trailed off, thinking with mounting horror how difficult it would be.

Perhaps he sensed the direction of my thoughts. 'I presume nothing, of course; your, ah, spare room will be most adequate.'

I pulled myself up into a sitting position, hugging the covers to my chest. 'Indeed; don't want you getting too comfortable, do we?' I smiled to myself wryly.

To my surprise, he chose not to reply. I watched him stare unseeing up at the ceiling and decided to prod once more.

'You could have just asked, you know,' I commented dryly. 'There was no need to go to all this trouble.'

I observed the small quirk of his lips. 'I am more selfish than that; the room was merely a bonus.'

I said nothing. Was this an admission of something? There were several nuggets to digest in that moment. He had nowhere else other than his rooms in Edinburgh — nowhere else that he called home. Or so he said, of course. There was always a chance he could be playing one of his little games. But to what end?

Perhaps he had changed his mind about us. I could have deemed his behaviour as almost ardent since his return.

Ardent… Well, perhaps in the loosest sense of the word.

I smoothed my hands over the covers and decided with infinite confidence and poise that I would not fall into any traps. Besides, there were far more pressing matters to dissect in the short-term. I took a breath, ready to demand he tell me about the Aurors, but when I looked down at him, I could see he was sleeping.

Initially, I felt a pang of outrage. Then I considered that nearly a week of incarceration was probably not conducive to getting much sleep. I sighed to myself silently. I should have liked to have stayed there with him — perhaps watching, or sleeping… I should have liked to have done many things, but what I wanted was not necessarily important right then.

I slid out of the bed as quietly as I could, wrapped my dressing gown around me and went into the kitchen. One of the first things I did was close my Floo connection. I didn't need the hassle just yet of Harry or Ron Flooing straight into the path of Severus Snape. Once that was completed, I set about occupying myself with some cooking.

Following that, later in the evening, I was lying on the settee with my book. There was a cottage pie in the oven and I'd also given the house a once-over to remove or hide anything I didn't want my guest chancing across. I'd made sure to Banish all empty wine bottles and I'd hidden my collection of Muggle romance novels. If there was anything else I'd forgotten, well, I'd have to take the hit as and when, I thought.

So there I was on the settee, outwardly collected, but inwardly a myriad of conflicting thoughts. Eventually, the door opened and in came he, looking annoyingly unruffled. I lowered my book and watched his progress to take the armchair by the fire. He said absolutely nothing and I grit my teeth together with irritation.

'Has anyone ever told you that you are the master of suspense?'

He tilted his head thoughtfully. 'Amongst other things, of course,' he said in a serene tone.

I sent my book back to the bookshelf and I pulled myself into a sitting position. 'Will you just tell me what happened?' I demanded. 'It's been doing my head in all week.'

His chin dropped forward and he appeared to contemplate his hands for a moment. Then his head lifted and there was almost a smile on his face. Several dark chuckles sounded and I felt myself straighten up in mild bemusement.

'Very well… The Aurors presented their evidence to me – so-called evidence, of course. I asked them if they really thought I was stupid enough to let myself get photographed carrying out nefarious deeds? Did they really think, for instance, I would sign _my own name_ to incriminating documents?'

He glared at me then, for effect, I think.

I nodded my agreement.

'An oversight, they reckoned. So, I asked them, how on earth could I have fooled the Dark Lord for so long with such poor judgement?'

He chuckled again. I never knew sojourns in Azkaban could be so amusing.

'Or perhaps _that_ was it, I suggested to them — perhaps I'm much too practised at the double-bluff, after all.'

I groaned loudly and closed my eyes. 'Severus, how could you wind them up like that?

'They had nothing on me, Granger, and they knew it.'

'You've been charged with smuggling, theft and fraud!' I exclaimed in disbelief. 'Not to mention feature as a prime suspect in a murder investigation.'

'It's flimsy and they know it. And what of Cresswell? All they have is a professional dispute… Merlin, I've had enough of those in the past and I managed to refrain from killing all of them.'

'Only just, probably,' I muttered under my breath.

He shot me a warning look.

'You should have told them straight-away where you were when he was killed,' I continued with a frown. 'People have not been kind.'

I folded my arms and shifted uncomfortably as I recalled some of the comments I had read.

He only spoke when I deigned to look at him again. 'I care nothing for what people think, Hermione.'

I frowned. This was part of the problem, I thought. Was _I_ included in that sweeping statement? I liked to think not. I hoped not.

'You should have told them,' I repeated.

He ignored me. 'There was method in my madness, Granger. It wasn't _only_ the Aurors who thought they were on to something, eh?'

'Ridley?'

He nodded appreciatively. 'I must say it was somewhat of a surprise when Greenwood put to me that I'd been laundering money through the Society…'

'Hmm… Perhaps those phantom expeditions to Norway were really not such a good idea, after all.'

He gave me a look of almost surprise, and I could see he was very nearly about to laugh. 'You are developing a shrewd sense of humour, Granger — I'm not sure I like it.'

I shrugged my shoulders flippantly, secretly rather pleased by my own wit. I realise how tragic this sounds, but such was my desire to be noticed by him.

'Ridley took a gamble,' I stated, feeling confident. 'It was obvious which way the tide was turning against you, and he sought to put the final nail in with forged accounts and Merlin knows what else.'

'Yes…'

'Except, he should have held out a moment longer, because now you know someone is framing you, and you are not in Azkaban…'

'Indeed… You see, this was not all for naught.'

There was a somewhat peculiar look that came over him — I think he was pleased. Age had perhaps not withered that vengeful streak he held.

'And yet, you still face being convicted of several crimes.' I gave him a sardonic look.

'A minor detail,' he sniffed, getting to his feet. 'What does a man have to do to get a cup of tea around here?'

I started to unfold my legs, but he held out his hand. 'I'll do it… I won't be able to recompense you for imposing, after all, since the Auror's have frozen my Gringott's account. I was lucky to keep my wand.'

I shook my head at his blase tone, watching him approach the kettle and select two mugs. I felt a smile pull at my mouth.

'Who said recompense had to be monetary…? I'm sure I can find alternative ways for you to earn your keep.' I bit my lip when I witnessed the sudden stillness in his posture. 'The garden needs weeding for starters.'

He ignored me. I could see he'd spotted something on the kitchen counter and I sank back against the settee, mentally kicking myself.

'Granger? Are these for me?'

He crossed the room, holding a white paper bag with two mugs trailing in the air behind him. He'd found the liquorice wands I'd bought on a whim — liquorice wands that I didn't like.

'Help yourself,' I mumbled, hoping my cheeks were not too aflame.

'I'll keep them for later— after whatever it is you have cooking in the oven.'

'You don't let the grass grow, do you?'

He did nothing except to smirk to himself. He regained his chair and he considered the fire. 'I trust you've closed your Floo connection?'

I fidgeted slightly. 'Of course.'

'I'm not sure how long we may keep our alliance quiet…'

'Tell me about Ridley,' I asked, changing the subject. 'Where does he fit into all this?'

'I should say he has had had his head turned by several galleons and the opportunity to oust me. It's always rankled him that he was not chosen to take charge of the Society. The Trustees chose me, even though Theo was already the deputy.'

'Ouch.'

'Indeed… He is somewhat intelligent, but lacks common sense. Not only that, at one point I believe he was an excellent potioneer, but that has been eroded over time. Such is the danger of resentment.'

He shot me a sidelong glance and I straightened reflexively.

'What isn't well-known is that Cresswell and Ridley were contemporaries.'

My eyebrows shot up.

'They once had an Apothecary in Diagon Alley.'

I leaned forward in earnest. 'You never said… Why, they may have been colluding together…'

'Mmm.'

I put my head into my hands and let out a frustrated groan. 'You've known this all along… You've known that they may both have been in on everything. I can't keep up with you.'

'Relax Granger; I had nothing on Theo until now.' There was somewhat of a faraway look on his face.

'So what do we do? What do we do to end this all once and for all?'

His head tilted thoughtfully. 'I haven't _quite_ thought that far ahead yet…'

'Ridley must be the Polyjuiced you, don't you think?'

'Perhaps…' He trailed off, before suddenly getting to his feet and consulting his pocket watch. 'I need to go and collect some personal effects from my rooms.'

I blinked and stood up quickly. ' _Now_? Are you allowed?'

'Not really,' he murmured shrugging on his cloak. 'What the Aurors don't know won't hurt them.'

I shook my head despairingly. 'Hang on…'

'Your presence is not required.'

'I should say it is.'

We glared at each other for a moment or two, before he grimaced and relented.

'Quickly then.'

I snatched up my cloak and scarf and took hold of his arm as he Disapparated. We popped into the courtyard at the rear of the building, which looked to be entirely in darkness, and we took silently to the steps. He opened the door into his rooms and he lit them up with a muted glow.

I felt myself sigh — it was obvious the Aurors had been rifling through everything.

'Don't worry, Granger; anything important I hid away prior to my arrest.'

I stood by somewhat uselessly as he collected up certain books and shrunk them down into his robes, before disappearing to what I assumed might be his bedroom. In a matter of moments he was back in a flurry of robes.

'Now that we're here….' He motioned towards a door at the far end of the room that I hadn't particularly noticed the previous time I had been there.

Ah, I thought; the real reason for the visit.

He opened the door and lit up the darkness with his wand. We were at the top of the staircase that led down into the Society building proper. I paused on the threshold, wondering if this was really such a good idea.

'Do you, ah, need something from your office?' I whispered.

'No…'

'Severus, what if we are caught trespassing?'

He spun around and leaned down to whisper in my ear. 'We'll simply have to hope they are good enough to give us cells next door to each other, my dear.'

Without further ado he began to descend the stairs.

'Fine,' I muttered to myself as I dutifully followed.

He came to a pause on a landing halfway down and indicated I should follow him down the corridor. The building was obviously empty, but I listened hard anyway for a sign of life. He halted at a door and gently tried the handle. It was locked. As he moved aside to aim his wand at the handle, I caught sight of the name on the door — it was Mr Theobald Ridley.

'Is this a good idea?' I repeated weakly.

He ignored me as the door clicked open.

I raised my own wand with a _Lumos_ charm and followed him inside. The room was immaculately tidy and furnished quite sparsely, apart from the bookshelves that took up much of the walls.

'What are we looking for?' I whispered.

'I don't know,' Severus replied.

He sat down behind the desk and began trying each of the drawers. With a shrug I walked over to the shelves and began scanning those. They were filled with potions texts mostly. I moved past those and and considered the mantelpiece. There were some trinkets adorning it but nothing of note. I bent to the fireplace, recalling the previous luck I'd had examining Severus's own fireplace. There was nothing there but ashes.

I got to my feet and found myself next at the cloak-stand. There were a few cloaks hanging up and I found myself rummaging through the pockets. They were mostly empty but for one small envelope — an empty envelope, but it was the large broken wax seal, which particularly caught my eye. I recognised it.

I was about to call out to my companion when a muffled sound arrested me. In an instant, Severus was on his feet at the door. There were footsteps and voices which sounded increasingly more audible and it was obvious that, whomever they were, they were ascending the stairs.

I looked around wildly, wondering what on earth we would do. We could not Disapparate away and we could not leave the room without crossing through the stairwell. Having replaced the Locking charm, Severus appeared at my elbow and was nudging me gently towards the window.

I felt my jaw slacken with outrage and I grasped his arm with a strong, warning grip.

'I'm not flying out of the window,' he hissed quietly, looking as though he wanted to roll his eyes.

I felt my breath return as he motioned to go behind the large, heavy curtains. Now _I_ wanted to roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of it. To my relief, the window behind was large and crenellated, affording some space for us both. We extinguished our wands and held our breath. I'd hoped that the footsteps would continue beyond, but soon enough there was the click of the door opening. My grip on my wand was so tight my nails dug into my palm.

A voice sounded into the room. 'We hoped they would keep him in Azkaban for longer than a few days.'

I glanced sideways and found my partner in crime to be smirking to himself.

'I've done what you asked; it's not my fault it didn't work.'

This was Ridley now.

'I'll not play dress-up anymore,' he continued. 'If you wish for more Polyjuice I can supply it, but that's all.'

There was the sound of the desk drawers being opened, and I prayed Ridley would not notice that anything looked disturbed.

'You'll do what we say,' hissed the unknown voice. 'We wouldn't want you going the same way as your old friend, would we?'

I felt my skin prickle and I wondered if I could edge towards the middle, where the curtains met, in order to try and ascertain who this unknown person might be. I'd barely conceived the thought when I felt fingers curl around my wrist.

We exchanged a look and I dutifully abandoned that line of thought.

Suddenly, the room returned to darkness and the door could be heard closing. Evidently Ridley had retrieved whatever it was he'd come for. I felt my body sag with relief.

'Come on,' Severus murmured, stepping silently across the floor.

Delicately, he opened the door and listened intently. Dimly, the sound of footsteps could be heard retreating down into the belly of the building.

'They're going to the store,' he said in an undertone. 'It's full of all manner of concoctions; Polyjuice included. It's heavily protected, including by key, of which Ridley has one.'

I nodded. Clearly, that's what he'd collected from his office. I watched a flicker of indecision cross over Severus's face as he peered down over the bannister.

'Let us go,' he said in the end, heading back up to his rooms, where we could reach the courtyard and disappear.

'Thank Merlin for that!' I exclaimed gratefully when we were back in my living room once more. Severus, however, said nothing.

'Well, at least we know now for certain that Ridley is an active participant in all this.'

'Mmm.'

I watched him with interest as he sank onto the the edge of the settee in contemplation. He seemed to consider his hands for a moment, before roughly shoving them through his hair and muttering an irritated ' _Fuck_.' Rising to his feet he then shrugged off his cloak and threw it down with a grimace. He tugged next at the tie at his neck.

I flinched when a fire violently erupted into the grate. He moved to stand by it, head sunk on to his chest.

'What's wrong?' I asked, approaching him warily.

His jaw clenched tightly before he spoke. 'I've fucked this up, Granger.'

I was mildly surprised at that. I folded my arms and regarded him openly. 'In what way?' I asked patiently.

'I thought the Society was free from this rot — _this_ is what I have been working hard to ensure. ' He scowled deeply. 'And all the while it was happening right under my nose.'

I considered my words before speaking. 'We don't know how far the Society itself is embroiled… Ridley may not have sunk it so very low…'

He glared at me fiercely. 'He is my deputy, Granger. I know what he is capable of and I chose not to see it. Irrespective of my opinion, he is a long-standing, respected member of the industry... And without respect, we Potioneers have very little left in this day and age.'

He looked entirely earnest, and yet, to my alarm, I felt humour bubbling up in my throat. I tried vainly to swallow it, but whilst I did not laugh aloud, I did feel my mouth tug into a small smile.

At the subsequent warning flash of his eyes, I reached a placatory hand up to his shoulder.

'Don't you think that ship may already have sailed, what with you being charged with several offences yourself?'

I felt myself smile widely now and, in somewhat of a brazen move, I let my thumb brush under his jaw, as if to mitigate my teasing.

To my delight, his eyes took on a particular gleam and he let out a pained chuckle.

'Fine; I realise there's very little that's respectable about me.'

I had always been taken by his commitment and, I suppose, his love for his work. It amused me he should care so little for his personal well-being, but be so concerned about the future of his craft. Selfishly, I desired that dedication for myself — _his_ dedication to me.

'The truth will come out, Severus, and you can rebuild from there.'

I did something really brazen, then. I brought my other hand up to his jaw and stretched up to kiss him; only once, and almost chastely, on the lips.

A kiss of encouragement, perhaps.

I say almost chaste, mind. The reality was far from it, of course. Chaste kisses do not linger, or tingle, or set off inside a heat that burns.

I released him with a small smile and, unsure of what to do with myself from there, set about removing my cloak.

'Allow me.'

His fingers came up to unfasten the clasp and I felt my heart begin to pump as if in anticipation of what might come next. We both knew what that might be. It ebbed and flowed in strength and volume, but it lingered around us all the time. He was watching me carefully — to see if I wished to resist. However, I would have done anything he'd asked, right then. Shamefully, perhaps, I could not imagine having the strength to resist ever again.

He Banished my cloak silently away. Even as it went, I thought of the envelope I'd stuffed within it, but made no move mention it. I preferred not to derail the moment between us. This is how far I'd fallen.

I put my hands to work on the buttons of his waistcoat and he looked at me with a mild rise of his eyebrows.

'I think I might like to go to Azkaban more often.'

I faltered and began shaking with laughter. 'What a thing to say!' I admonished.

He smirked and lifted my chin up so that he might kiss me.

The sudden clatter of the letterbox arrested us both and we looked to see the _Evening Prophet_ sail in and deposit itself on my coffee table.

I Summoned it to me and unfolded it for us to see. There on the front page was a photograph of Severus leaving Azkaban. It wasn't the only photograph displayed there, however. At the bottom of the article was a photograph of me.

We looked at each other; Severus sighed loudly and threw himself into the armchair.

It had begun.

* * *

AN: Have I ever updated this quick before? : )

Thanks for the reviews!


	26. Twenty Six

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Twenty Six**

I didn't sleep particularly well that night.

There was a bit too much to think about, it seemed. The _Evening Prophet_ had managed to sniff out a rumour that I had secured Severus's release. And, of course, it was no rumour. They had also managed to add a certain colour too, on the incident of our apparent acquaintance. That was no rumour,either, of course.

The day was a Sunday and a Weasley family dinner beckoned. Unfortunately, I was sure to have many questions to face. _And_ there was a man in my bed who wasn't supposed to be there.

So much for the spare room.

I lay on my side, facing away from the man in particular. I never would have thought this could have been the outcome following our meeting those weeks ago. Yet, I had a feeling the true outcome, the final outcome, was still rather too blurry to make out. And, the trouble was, I increasingly felt my attitude to it was becoming flippant.

Reckless, maybe.

Could it ever work between us? I often wondered. Despite what my heart wanted, even I had to acknowledge how ridiculous it sounded on paper. Perhaps there was too much history. Perhaps he was too damaged. Perhaps I was too young.

And perhaps it would never matter.

I'd take my chances where I saw them, because I now knew I wanted no longer to spend my life alone. That much was a given.

I shifted onto my back with irritation.

But above all else, the priority now was to get Severus's charges dropped. How to achieve that was not entirely clear to me.

I twisted onto my other side and closed my eyes tightly. It was to no avail, however, and I felt wide awake. I shifted quietly, once more, thinking I would have to simply get up.

'It was easier sleeping in Azkaban,' came a deep, disgruntled voice.

I froze. 'Sorry,' I whispered into the dark. 'I'll leave you in peace.'

I made to move but his hand touched my upper arm, forestalling me.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing… Go back to sleep.'

I felt him shift. 'Well, I'm awake now, so…'

I bit my lip and considered. 'Wait here, then…' I murmured, getting up and pulling on my dressing gown.

I left the room and went to my cloak. From inside it I retrieved the envelope I had seized from Ridley's office and returned to the bedroom. I lit a lamp that hovered near to the bed so there was enough of a dim glow to see by. He was sitting upright against a pillow and I felt my eyes avert of their own accord from his chest.

I got under the covers and sat cross-legged. At his expectant look I handed him the envelope. I watched him take it, first examining the writing on the front, and then turning it over in his hands to view the back. He touched the broken wax seal, pressing it back together to form the complete product.

In a moment, his eyes raised to mine.

'Where did you get this?'

'Ridley's office — it was inside a pocket of his cloak. There was no letter inside.'

He turned his consideration to the envelope again.

'Of course, it could be a coincidence,' I conceded lightly, 'but I distrust anything involving a Malfoy.'

He made a low noise of agreement, looking at the seal of one Lucius Malfoy once more.

'Does Ridley know Malfoy?'

'He has never mentioned him to me.'

I watched him carefully, wondering how he would respond to my next question.

'What is Lucius Malfoy doing with himself these days?'

The Malfoys' may have escaped Azkaban following the end of war, but they had not escaped unscathed. Malfoy Manor had been seized by the Ministry, for one, and the

Malfoy name had become mud for another.

'I don't know,' Severus replied, handing the envelope back to me.

'You have not kept in touch?'

His eyes snapped to mine and there was a flash of anger that filled them. Clearly, I was walking a fine line, but it didn't prevent me from continuing.

'Were you not friends?'

'Yes — we meet every Sunday for afternoon tea.'

I opened my mouth to retort briskly, but he threw off the covers and got to his feet.

'Severus —'

He stalked out, closing the door behind him. I lifted my eyes heavenwards and threw myself down into the bed. I'd obviously touched a nerve, but I didn't regret it. I knew I'd have to touch a few more of those in order to get where I wanted — to the real man underneath those nearly impenetrable layers.

I lay there alone, and I suppose I even dozed off eventually, as the next thing I knew was that dawn was beginning to break. I got up, half wondering if he would still be there, but I found him with his back to me at the kitchen table.

'Thought you might have had breakfast cooking at the very least,' I announced dryly, stepping up behind him.

Splayed out in front of him were the incriminating photographs I'd found at Cresswell's cottage. He glanced up at my arrival.

'There is nothing to signify either way, but there's a chance these were taken at the Malfoy estate.'

I stared at the photographs for a moment. It was true there was nothing whatsoever to suggest we were on the right track.

'Still… A lead is a lead, and we don't have many of them at the moment.'

I gave his shoulder a squeeze.

'Mmm.'

'We'll go tonight, then.'

He looked up at me sharply now. I knew what he was about and before he could action himself I let out a loud groan of frustration.

'You are not going alone!' I enunciated crisply, leaning down towards him.

I just about clocked his mild expression of outrage as I turned my attentions to the kettle.

'I wasn't going to say anything!' he protested.

'You were.'

There was a moment before he replied. 'Am I not allowed to prioritise your safety and well-being above all else?'

I smiled to myself. 'Being pious doesn't suit you.'

'Ouch,' he murmured to himself.

I placed a mug down in front of him. 'Help yourself to anything you want… I'm going to get ready.'

'To go to the Weasleys' no doubt,' he observed with a grimace.

'You're welcome to join us.'

I burst out laughing at his subsequent look of horror.

'Thank you, no. I'd rather die.'

I blinked at the vehemence in his tone. 'Very well.'

It was as I was tackling my hair that a brisk knock sounded at the front door. I stepped into the living room, somewhat intrigued. No one ever knocked the door. The only person to call on me lately was currently reclining on the settee with a book.

Severus got to his feet and I indicated he should go into the bedroom. I crossed over to the door and opened it.

A flashbulb erupted almost immediately, dazzling me momentarily.

'Miss Granger! Dawkins here from the _Daily Prophet_ \- could you talk to us about your involvement with the release of Severus Snape?'

I slammed the door shut.

'Miss Granger, do you know where Snape is?'

'Fuck off,' I muttered crossly.

Severus was stood in the doorway. 'Want me to go out there and hex them? Give them something really to talk about.'

'Definitely not!'

Once the battle with my hair was complete I tugged on my cloak and collected up the bottle of wine I always took with me.

'Give my love to Potter and Weasley,' muttered my new lodger.

I sent him a look of fake amusement before leaving.

I Apparated into the garden at the Burrow and with a fortifying breath, I stepped into the kitchen. It was immediately obvious as to the atmosphere I was entering. Molly looked up from the saucepans with a large smile, but there was something lacking in her effusiveness, and poor Arthur seemed not to be able to look me in the eye. Having evidently been listening out for my arrival, Harry and Ron suddenly tumbled through the door into the kitchen, both apparently bursting.

I held up my hand to forestall them.

I stared at them with as much gumption as I could manage, when, really, my insides were shrivelling with embarrassment. They stared back at me looking faintly green.

I knew I shouldn't be embarrassed. I'd just become so accustomed to keeping my private life private… Or, actually, it might be more that I had become accustomed to having no private life to speak of. I was too used to pretending I was content, strong and unbothered in my everyday existence, and now there was an anomaly that I wasn't quite sure how to treat. And this was no ordinary anomaly.

I sighed to myself, knowing there was only one way to deal with this.

'Whatever you have heard or read is likely true,' I announced plainly. I raised my hand again when Ron opened his mouth. 'Yes, I have been working with Severus Snape on matters pertaining to our mutual interest. Yes, he was with me on the night of Cresswell's murder and yes he will be found innocent of all charges against him. The matter of our personal relationship is a matter between ourselves. However, I will not deny we have one and so read into that what you will.'

There was a stunned silence that followed.

It was Arthur who eventually broke it. 'Um… Shall we, ah, yes, let's lay the table for lunch—'

'Excellent idea!' Molly exclaimed, drawing out her wand so that plates started flying everywhere.

'So it's true then, what they're saying?' Harry questioned. 'That you and he are—'

'Harry, dear, could you fetch some chairs?' Molly put in. 'And Arthur, could you—'

'For Merlin's sake!' Ron suddenly burst out, looking despairingly at his parents. 'Hermione's just told us she's shagging Severus Snape and all _you_ can do—'

'RONALD WEASLEY!' Molly screeched, slapping him with her tea towel. 'Don't you _dare_ use language like that in my kitchen!'

Ron shied away from the assault but Molly pursued him vigorously with the tea towel. ' _Out_! All of you!' she cried, pointing to the door.

'Not you, dear,' she murmured when I dutifully stepped forward.

I braced myself for what was to come when the others had sloped away. Molly looked at me, not unkindly, of course, but I felt there was a layer of something there… Concern, maybe, and possibly pity, too.

'Hermione, I don't presume to take on the role of your mother, but we have known each other a long time, and been through so much that in your mother's absence, I hope you don't mind me extending to you some counsel, woman to woman.'

I nodded. 'Of course.'

She paused and considered me at length.

'Do you know what you are doing? That is, getting involved with such a…' she searched around for an appropriately diplomatic word. '... a _difficult_ man?'

I said nothing.

'And you are so young, Hermione…'

I bridled at that. 'Young? I'm hardly young in any sense of the word.'

Molly shook her head. 'I know you have seen much, my dear; he, however, has seen much more. But I feel you know very little in the ways of men and—'

'Molly, please,' I interrupted with a potent blush. 'May I remind you I was with Ron for several years?'

'Well… precisely.'

I blinked at that, and I might have found her sardonic expression amusing under different circumstances. 'I appreciate your concern, but you needn't worry. I know what I am doing… There really is little to remark upon—we are not committed to one another…'

I felt a pang of discomfort at my own words. They sounded a little foolish spoken aloud.

Molly shook her head. 'You wish it so, I can tell.'

'He has been honest with me and I have made my decisions from there.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Never sell yourself short, Hermione; you deserve someone who can love you freely. He is… troubled and —'

'Please, Molly, I can take care of myself.'

I left her then and took myself off in search of the children. I felt they were only ones who would be able to look at me without making known their own opinion on my choice of consort. But I was distracted for the rest of the afternoon. Harry and Ron said very little, and Ginny, well, she said nothing out of politeness I think. Therefore it fell upon me to dwell.

Who was this person I had become embroiled with, really? It so often seemed like a clever game —a battle of wits—to get one over on him. To compete against his sarcastic nature and to almost try to draw myself as aloof and reserved as he, and for what?

There may never be prize at the end.

Molly was right. Did I not deserve commitment?

Such were the circles my thoughts and emotions seemed to be perpetually stuck in.

Dusk was falling when I returned home. Severus was sitting by the fire, still reading. He looked up at my arrival and I only stared for a moment or two — considering. I was considering my afternoon of thoughts fluttering hither and thither. They appeared to crystallise into a moment of clarity as I watched him.

This simply could not go on indefinitely. For good or for ill, there needed to be a resolve.

When he raised an inquisitive eyebrow I cleared my throat.

'We need to finish this,' I pronounced, putting my hands on my hips.

He set his book down slowly.

'We go to Malfoy Manor — tonight.'

He got to his feet and came to stand in front of me. I made to avert my eyes at his proximity and to occupy myself, but he surprised me by taking hold of my chin. He tilted my head back as if to study it. What he found there appeared to elicit in him some dark amusement, for that was the only thing I could read in his expression.

'To be sure,' he murmured in agreement.

He released me and I stared at his retreating figure with chagrin. I am sure he had not used Legilimency— maybe I am not very good at keeping my emotions in check. Perhaps he is very perspicacious. In any case, I am sure he referred not only to ending the matter of the Augureys, but to the matter of us as well.

He had read my full meaning unerringly.

His ability to read me like a book often disposed me to feelings of resentment. Time would not serve to mute this unfortunate reaction of mine, only to dull it slightly.

'Where is Lucius Malfoy?' I asked boldly.

I think I had managed to convince myself that Malfoy was the answer in all this, despite the only very, very, tenuous link we had.

He smirked to himself. 'Why should I know?'

I shrugged my shoulders glibly, repeating my question of this morning. 'Were you not friends?'

He folded his arms across his chest. 'We were.'

'Were…' I repeated doubtfully.

'Being a traitor doesn't lend itself well to maintaining the bonds of friendship, Granger; is that not obvious?'

'You saved Draco…'

'A fact for which is the only reason I have not found myself come to a sticky end in the intervening years.'

I blinked stupidly.

'Lucius is the most self-serving man you may ever have the misfortune of meeting. And clever? Oh, yes, he's that, too. Never, ever, underestimate that man, do you hear me?'

He glared and advanced on me slightly.

'Lucius was totally committed to the Dark Lord's philosophy, Granger, and time will not have changed that. Moreover, this is a man who has fallen a long way from his prime. As far as he is concerned, _I_ orchestrated that.' His eyes narrowed darkly. 'He did not take it lightly.'

I drew up my courage. 'Does it disappoint you?'

I think I managed to surprise him, if the perplexed scowl was anything to go by. I was always a bit too good at spotting my chances to try and gather more information about this man. His umbrage from this morning had been unusual and I felt this was an area that required prodding. I had not the subtlety, however, to be anything other than direct.

'Disappoint me?' he spat, eyes blazing.

Maybe after Molly's words I was looking for a reason to scorn him — a reason to convince myself he did not warrant my consideration.

And I could think of no better reason right then than to think he might remain sympathetic to the leanings of one Lucius Malfoy.

'Am I… _disappointed_?' He posed rhetorically, watching me closely.

I stared defiantly.

There was an almost searching look on his face What he was looking for, I don't know, but as quickly as it had come, the anger in his face dissipated. His eyes closed and his shoulders lifted as he began to chuckle. He brought his hands up to his face as if to press away his laughter, but it continued unhindered. Shaking his head, he turned away from me. Only then did his amusement subside.

'You are right; this… foolishness must indeed come to an end,' he muttered.

I felt my stomach sink into my boots at the contempt in his voice. I also turned away as my cheeks filled with a flush of consternation. I thought at the time that he was being unnecessarily dramatic. I now know that, actually, I had managed to offend him greatly. I did not have the wit at the time to recognise the gift I had been handed — the responsibility I had been given. If I had known, no doubt I would have taken more care, for he was always a few steps ahead of me, and was always poised to retreat at a moments notice.

Neither of us spoke for a time; he was the first to offer anything.

'The Malfoy estate covers many acres… We cannot traverse them on foot.'

'Very well.'

We proceeded to make preparations with little to no conversation, and when we were ready, Severus Apparated us away.

We appeared in a field at the boundary of Malfoy Manor and its grounds. The moon shone down onto the countryside and the ramshackle form of the manor house stood forbidding in the distance. I shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold air. I looked to my companion as if for support, but he stared firmly into the distance, more unreachable, oddly, than I think I had ever felt since our reacquaintance.

It was not into the manor house that we would go, thankfully. The Ministry had it fully warded against entry and we could sense those wards were intact. The Malfoy estate, however, was a large one and contained various smaller buildings spread out across its lands, ranging from cottages, to barns, and to sheds. There would have seemed little point to the Ministry in extending resources to protect these.

We had our brooms with us. This had seemed the best way to explore - quiet and with the benefit of a rapid exit once within the zone of the anti apparition wards.

Gifting me with a first look since our arrival, Severus spoke. 'Follow me, and let's keep this low key, eh?'

We kept low to the ground to avoid detection. We floated across the fields, eyes peeled for signs of life. We got as close as we dared to several derelict buildings, but there was no cause for concern in any of them. Perhaps half an hour had passed before we both saw the wisp of smoke curling up from a rather makeshift looking chimney. It was attached to a rather large barn set possibly a mile away from the manor itself. There was no light visible from within.

'We will never get close without being detected,' Severus murmured.

There was a tangible presence of spells around the structure.

'Can we not undo some of the wards?'

'Of course, however, that may cause suspicion in and of itself.'

I sighed, thinking of the danger we were courting.

'You can send a message to Potter?'

'Yes.' I glanced at him in surprise.

'We will undo the wards and take a chance. I will trust you to send for the Aurors if and when necessary.'

We alighted onto the ground, but kept our brooms in hand. We used a large water tank for cover as we proceeded to dismantle as many of the wards as we could.

'Quickly now, Granger; no dallying.'

I was about to make a retort when the sound of scuffling footsteps could be heard. We glanced up in time to see a shadowy figure moving around the perimeter of the building. In flash, I sent a Stunner across the yard, which hit the man squarely in the chest. He crumpled into a heap on the floor.

'Nice one, Granger; what precisely was it about low key you misunderstood?'

I ignored him and scuttled over to the barn, bypassing the fallen figure, and inching quietly along its elevation to the door. I sensed my companion was following despite his griping. We were nearly at the door when I heard it — the low, mournful cry of the Augurey.

I froze with a gasp.

A hand grasped my shoulder, but I slipped free and nudged open the door with my foot. I listened for any sounds within, but there was nothing. I stepped into the doorway and threw out several Lumos charms at once. Several sconces flared to life and suddenly the long barn was lit up.

'Granger, for the love of… Tell _everyone_ we're here, why don't you?'

I ignored him. I was too occupied staring at the row upon row of cages that filled the barn.

'Oh my God,' I breathed in horror. 'What do we do?'

My immediate instinct was to unleash all the cages, but Augureys were reluctant fliers and so the action could be superfluous. My second thought was to get the Aurors straightaway. Yet, was it too soon to turn this over to the Aurors? We needed evidence that exonerated Severus, not serve to strengthen the case against him.

Evidently my companion thought the same. 'Dim these lights,' he hissed. 'You search down here and I'll go up there.'

He indicated with a jerk of his head the upper area which was accessed via a ladder.

'Quickly now, we don't have much time.'

I returned the barn to darkness and ventured forth with only the light from my wand. I concentrated on papers, hoping to find something that pointed towards the actual culprits. I hadn't got very far in my quest when things began to unravel.

I suppose we had been somewhat foolhardy — somewhat careless. In any case, with the occasional low moan of the Augureys in the background, I didn't hear the sound of company within that barn. I didn't hear the sound of approaching footsteps until the hairs on the back of my neck pricked up portentously. I knew instinctively it was not Severus.

In a split second I made my decision. Rather than cast a blind spell behind me, in a move Harry and Ron would have been proud of, I leapt onto my broom and swooped up off the ground. There was a brief yelp of surprise and a loud shout of ' _Quick!'_

I zoomed towards the exit, hoping to draw my pursuer outside. The problem was, there was someone else outside, waiting.

The spell they fired at me caught the tail of my broom and sent it careering towards the ground. Luckily, I had not much height and so not far to fall. Nevertheless, it was a hefty thump with which I hit the ground. Winded and dazed, I could only stare as a figure suddenly loomed over me.

Struggling for breath, I scrambled for my wand, but it was too late.

' _Obliviate_!'

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading! If you're celebrating, happy Christmas : )


	27. Twenty Seven

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Twenty Seven**

It took her many years of convincing before she could get me to contribute to her so-called memoir. Why would you want to write memoir? I asked. What an exercise in narcissism, I told her.

I was summarily told that it is not narcissism. Apparently, it's an exercise in self-reflection and personal growth (whatever that is).

Be that as it may, these are the 'private reminiscences' of one Hermione Granger, not Severus Snape, therefore, why do _I_ have to contribute?

Write it second-hand, I told her. It's not my fault she allowed herself to get _Obliviated_ , is it?

It will add to the story, she said. It will be good for the _momentum_.

Momentum? Is this an exercise in personal growth or a fiction novel? I wondered. Truth be told, there is much about her that I've given up trying to fathom over the years.

I never read her first few drafts. For years I simply refused. In all honesty, I just couldn't face it. It seemed little more than a trifle, anyway, as she assured me it was merely a hobby — a personal 'journey' so to speak. For her eyes (and mine if I wished) only. However, some years later, when the heat had died down and certain peoples were no longer around, she told me she had sent it off to a publisher.

 _A publisher._

Of course, I had to bloody read it then, if only to insist on some swift editing of certain personal details, facts, fanciful imagery and/or incorrect assessments and judgements relating to my being.

And Merlin, how I cringed and bridled that such light should be shone on my existence, and yet, how impressed and relieved I was to experience the depth of her feelings and emotions. How novel to see the world through the eyes of one Hermione Granger; to see myself through her eyes, even. How could I not fail then to acquiesce to her?

Still, this remains not my own memoir. I am merely to fill in the blanks whilst she was otherwise incapacitated. I have received strict orders not to give too much away before the end and, once again, I ask myself just what sort of story is this?

So, there we were — we'd arrived at the Malfoy estate woefully unprepared and both of irritable persuasions. No doubt it was the latter which helped inform our foolish approach. I lay that firmly at her door. She should have known better than to waltz in demanding to know about my dealings with Lucius Malfoy as if she were my keeper. Bloody know-it-all.

I digress.

Granger was gone to search the lower level of the barn and I had climbed the ladder to search through the raised storage area. It could only have been mere moments later when someone else entered the premises. I heard nothing. The first I knew about it was through Granger's quick-thinking and the sound of her tearing through the barn on her broomstick. At the sudden cacophony of noise, I crept to the edge of the floor and watched as she flew out through the doorway. Close behind her was her assailant running out on foot after her.

I flew down to the floor and peered from the darkness, just in time to watch as she tumbled from her broom to the ground below.

I must say, it was a rather sickening thump; even I winced.

But I had no time to dwell; there were figures advancing on her. I had my wand held in a fierce grip, but it was very dark and I was too far away to get a good aim. I was undecided about blowing my own cover too soon. For all I knew, there could be others nearby and we could end up rather outnumbered. Suddenly, several spells in quick succession were shot at Granger, and I stepped out into the yard, knowing I had to act now or loose the upper hand altogether.

Her two attackers appeared to be exchanging some heated words. I did not recognise these figures. I could see in the way the moonlight glinted off them that they wore masks over their faces. Probably, I could have taken them both by surprise; definitely, even. Instead, I chose to do something a tad mercenary, but if it helps, Granger has forgiven me —I let them bundle her up and Disapparate away with her into the night.

Not before I had cursed her, of course.

I had a prime shot when they levitated her into the air for me to hex her with a Tracking spell. It was obvious; I would follow them to wherever they took her and in the process, perhaps uncover further this ring of corruption. If anything, Granger would be proud.

It was a risky strategy, undoubtedly, and realising it could all unravel quite quickly, I sent my Patronus to Potter advising him to get the Aurors to Malfoy Manor. I made no mention of Granger, or of where I would be. The cavalry wouldn't needed there quite yet. I pulled out the map Granger and I had used in the past. I took a surprised breath when I saw that she had been deposited in Edinburgh, of all places.

How original, I thought.

I made my way around the barn to find the crumpled figure of the guardsman Granger had felled. He also had a mask on. I relieved him of his cloak and put it round me, throwing up the hood over my head and then slipped on the mask. There was no time right then for ruminating on the connotations of this particular get-up. I think I might have shivered, however.

I Disapparated into the courtyard behind the Society and, to my initial shock, found myself standing directly over Granger's inert form.

'Where the fuck were you?' A voice hissed at me.

Only years of practice meant I kept my wits about me and didn't flinch. Granger was on the floor and there was only one of our assailants present.

'She got me with a _Stunner_ ,' I hissed back, hoping my assumed character was not a Scotsman or a similarly accented fellow.

' _Bitch,_ ' he muttered.

I sighed internally with relief.

'What are we doing with her?' I asked, feeling bold.

'Matthews has gone to fetch Ridley. She's been _Obliviated_ , but there's something else he wants to do before we dump her.'

I felt my heart still momentarily in my chest. They'd _Obliviated_ her. Had they done so recklessly, who knew what state her mind could be in? I was very nearly prepared to grab her and Disapparate out from there straightaway.

Bugger the Augurey's, I thought to myself.

But there were suddenly two cracks of Apparition that forestalled me. The night was getting better and better — Theodore Ridley was now standing before me, along with this fellow Matthews, presumably.

'Jenkins, get her up to Ridley's office,' ordered Matthews.

Fuck, I thought. This was alarming — was _I_ Jenkins? Luckily for me, it transpired I was not. The other man stepped forward and began Levitating Granger through the air, the rest of us following on behind.

'Do we really have to —'

This was Theo, sounding somewhat pathetic.

'Get the Polyjuice. _You_ will use Snape to threaten her into being quiet. Do whatever it takes. If she knows what's good for her she'll go straight to the Aurors and we will have them both off our backs.'

I felt my eyebrows rise behind my mask.

'How do you know Severus wasn't with her tonight?' asked Theo.

My step nearly faltered at that. He always pretty sharp, old Theo; such a shame, really.

'Just do as your told,will you?'

I thought their plan of action a tad far-fetched and doomed to failure. Theoretically, perhaps she would be taken in by my imposter and she would report me to the Ministry, but I failed to see why she would then drop the matter. Far from it, in actual fact. Clearly, they'd underestimated her.

Except, I wasn't to hear quite the full story yet.

Theo had gone to take the Polyjuice, with little to no further protestation,which I found intriguing. Matthews, Jenkins, and whoever I was, stood in Theo's office peering down over Granger's body. To my infinite relief, no one had yet sought to remove their mask.

Matthews suddenly took out his wand, nudging Granger with his foot. 'This, here, is a problem, gentlemen. If our operation is compromised because of her, we will not live to see out the remainder of the year. I am going to enter her mind and find out every bit of information she knows about us and I'm going to take it from her.'

I hadn't quite anticipated that. Messing around her mind… Well, who knew what damage that would cause? Permanent damage... Selfishly, I thought of her memories of me, of us, and how they might be compromised.

Matthews got down onto his knees and, fearing I really only had one option left, I manoeuvred my body so that I had both Matthews and Jenkins before me. I cast a non-verbal Silencing spell on the room, and then I drew out my wand.

I took out Matthews first, which was easy enough because he had his back to me. He actually keeled over on top of Granger, which was unfortunate but couldn't be helped. Jenkins, of course, had time to react and so he managed to throw spells at me. He was no real dueller, however, and within a few moments he was also face down on the floor.

Amateurs, if truth be told.

I dragged Matthews off Granger and piled him and Jenkins up behind the door. I went through both of their robes and recovered Granger's wand. Next, I conjured my Patronus and sent for the Aurors, and when that was done I awaited the arrival of the bigger fish.

Of course, I could have simply scooped Granger up and made our escape, but she understood.

Footsteps soon approached and, I must admit, it was somewhat unnerving to see my own face and body come through the door.

This Snape, Theo, paused and looked around the room. Naturally, there was some disarray to be beheld from the scuffle. I flicked my wand and the door behind him shut violently and locked.

I pulled my mask away and shook my head free of the hood.

'All right, there, Theo? My, my — that is a disturbing fetish you have.'

He stared at me blankly. Who knew I had it in me to look so utterly dumb?

He moved to raise his wand, but I blocked his attempt at a hex easily. He reached behind him to try the door, but it wouldn't budge.

'Let me out,' he demanded.

'Why Theo?' I asked. 'Why get embroiled in all of this?'

'Fuck off.'

'Charming.'

I took several steps forward until his back was pressed up against the door. 'So what will it be; will you come quietly or…?'

I could see the panic begin to rise in him by the way his eyes - my eyes - began to dart about. Fortunately, this Snape was not much practised in the art of Occlumency and so I was one step ahead when he tried once more to hex me.

He didn't want to come quietly. In fact, he lunged at me. Of course, I knew what he was going to do so perhaps even before he did, so I stepped aside. As he fell headlong into his desk, I took the opportunity to disarm him. I saw him reach out to grab a letter knife that sat on his desk, but I was too quick for him. I grabbed a fistful of his robes and hauled him backwards so that he sprawled across the floor.

Turns out I'm rather light.

I pointed my wand down at his chest as I stood over him.

'Who's at the top of this chain, hmm? It's not some weak-willed, pathetic old academic like you, that's for sure.'

I'm not sure I can do justice how utterly surreal this tableau was to me. Theo was only lucky that I had no twisted desire to cause myself pain. Things might have ended far differently, otherwise.

As it was, he ignored my question and made one last attempt to kick out at me. I didn't really need him to answer. I could tell he didn't know who was pulling the strings.

Knowing the Aurors were imminent, I decided to end it and knock him out with a Stunner.

With Ridley felled, I paused to take a breath and to rip off the heavy cloak that hung around me. I pushed the hair from my face and turned to Granger's supine body on the floor. I went to my knees and spelled free first her bonds and then I poised my wand ready to wake her, finally. But… and I admit, I hesitated.

How unusual it was to see her so peaceful and quiet for once!

I lowered my wand and simply watched her. One must allow a selfish old man a momentary lapse of foolishness when presented with such beauty. Beauty that I had never ever held before, until recently, but beauty which felt so very brittle in my clumsy, unclean, selfish hands. It could never be mine — that much seemed very obvious to me in that moment.

I placed my hand under her neck and cast _Ennervate_.

Her eyes flew open with a gasp of air. ' _Severus?'_

I nodded.

She moved to sit up and grasped at her ribs as she did so. ' _Fuck_.'

I let my hand fall away to my lap, but she quickly took hold of it in hers. I didn't mind.

'Severus, where… ?.'

She trailed off as her eyes travelled the room and alighted on the immobile body of Ridley, or to her eyes, Severus Snape.

'What?' she breathed, rearing back from me immediately and taking her hand with her. 'Who…' She started feeling around frantically for her wand.

'Now, how will you tell which Snape is which?' I posed softly, and maybe a little bit menacingly, too.

I can be a cruel bastard, I admit it. It amused me to see her confusion and horror, only briefly of course.

She was staring at me wide-eyed.

I took pity on her and smirked. 'Your wand, my dear.' I held it out for her and she as good as snatched it off me. I noted she did not point it at me, however.

'I'm sure you would not be simply sitting here enjoying yourself if you were an imposter,' she observed dryly.

I allowed a concessionary nod.

'What… How did I get here? What happened?'

'You have been _Obliviated_.'

Her face dropped.

'What is the last thing you remember?'

'Um, it's fuzzy, but… I remember being at the Burrow and that's, well, that's it…'

Unbidden, I felt a prickle of relief that the _Obliviate_ might very well prove to be a targeted one and that her memory loss might not be too affecting.

'I will fill you in on the details,' I advised. 'The Aurors will be here shortly.'

She nodded, still looking rather dazed. 'Do we tell them everything?'

'Yes; this is the end, Granger; you've got what you wanted, after all.'

A frown formed on her face. She did not remember her words of the earlier evening, I noted ruefully. She did not recall her frustration, which I knew was in part directed at me. To my mind, this would be the end. It _should_ be the end if logic and common sense were to prevail.

She was watching me — studying me with such an open expression of relief and gratitude and happiness that I felt transfixed. .

She smiled widely. 'Oh, Severus, have we really done it?'

She shifted to her knees and put her arms about my shoulders. I must have stiffened with discomfort, but there was no way I wasn't going to make the most of it. I quickly brought my arms around her, documenting the feel of her, the smell of her, and wondered, not for the first time, how I'd managed all my life without such exquisite sensory overload.

In time she pulled back, sitting on her heels. I should have liked to have kissed her — what's the point of pretending otherwise, at this stage? I should have liked to have extracted from her a promise that she might never, ever leave me. I was beginning to be accustomed to these moments coming upon me in her presence. These unusual, almost otherworldly, moments where I was not myself.

There were sounds and voices approaching on the stairs, however, and I dropped my hands from her waist.

'Make sure they take you to St. Mungo's first,' I ordered, getting to my feet.

'Shall you not come, too?' she queried.

I smirked. 'No my dear, there will be no St. Mungo's for me.'

Potter burst into the room then, along with several others.

'Evening Potter.' I allowed myself an automatic grimace.

He stared openly between me, Granger, and the bodies on the floor.

'Give it ten minutes and that bloke there will no longer look like me,' I advised when his gaze seemed fixed on the Severus Snape on the floor.

'Here is my wand.' I held it out, handle first, to him.

He stepped up to me, as gormlessly as ever, and took it. 'You've breached the conditions of your release, Snape, so…'

He said it almost apologetically, but I merely jerked my head irritably that he should simply get on with it. He bound my hands together and indicated for an Auror to remove me.

'Harry,' put in Granger, 'is that really necessary?'

Potter bit his lip. 'Well, I'm afraid I'll have to bind you, too, Hermione, until it's known exactly what the hell is going on here…' He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. 'Sorry, it's procedure.'

I just about caught Granger's look of pure outrage as I left the room. It afforded me some amusement on the journey to the Ministry, at least.

And that was that. That is how the final events unfolded. A somewhat strange series of occurrences, and we had yet to see what they would all amount to. I only hoped the Aurors were up to the task, but I'm no optimist.

From here I shall return to the eminent, ever loquacious turn of Granger's quill.

I've been told not to preface events too early in their chronological sequence, but I feel there is a part to this story yet to come which might be better served by my quill. Still, the facts are the facts, no matter how much we may dress them up or down in hindsight, and it's her story to tell, after all.

Yet, I note she is one for prescient foreboding, and so I will say this:

Granger thinks I'm a know-it-all. Well, it is a hard truth to acknowledge, but a truth nonetheless, that, actually, there is no such thing as a know-it-all.

We all have gaps in our knowledge and experience.

Unfortunately, some more than most.

* * *

AN: Thanks for your lovely reviews. Only the last one to go now : )


	28. Twenty Eight

**The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all**

 **Twenty Eight**

I had a broken rib and a lot of bruising following my escapade at Malfoy Manor. After an assessment in the spell-damage ward and treatment for my physical injuries at the hospital, I was hauled to the Auror Office for a grilling. It was one of several uncomfortable grillings, actually. It was all rather dramatic, but they even took out a warrant to search my house for evidence, rather than simply rely on me to hand over all my materials and research.

I had to detail everything that had happened, exactly how it had happened and with no prevaricating in-between. The Aurors were not happy and I can't say that I blamed them. I'd like to say I'd walked a fine line between being deliberately evasive and, I suppose, obstructive.

Except, I rather crossed that line, several times, probably.

Still, they could not deny we had delivered them some prime participants in this saga — had given them a more than head-start on the matter. Yet, when I was finally allowed to leave the Ministry, they left me in no uncertain terms that my part in this investigation was not concluded.

I was granted a few days of leave from work to recover. My physical injuries were somewhat trifling, in the grand scheme of things, but their tone brooked no argument from me. I had no doubt in mind as to the real reason they wished to keep me away from work, and it was nothing to do with my personal well-being.

Harry and Ron visited me as soon as I was home.

'What the hell, Hermione?' was the greeting I had from Ron. 'Why did you keep this from us?'

'How could I have told you anything?' I posed. 'You're both Aurors, your positions would have been untenable.'

I tried to explain to them my reasons, but they have never really understood my drive and passion for the causes that I take up. I don't resent them for that — I sometimes don't understand it myself. For various reasons, they did not face the same barriers at work that I did. They did not have to feel they were continually fighting a losing battle. They didn't have this ever pressing need to make a difference.

During this visit there had been something rather surprising in that they entirely neglected to mention my partner in crime. And it was to my chagrin, actually, because there was something I was dying to know. So, before they took their leave, I simply had to ask:

'Have you heard anything about Severus?

They shared a none too enthused look between them.

Ron folded his arms. 'They have finished questioning him and the charges may be dropped pending verification of your…story.'

'It's not a _story_ , Ron — it's the truth.'

'We'll see.'

There was little point in arguing. They were both smarting a little. I didn't blame them, either. It all seemed a little crazy when one thought about it.

'They're saying in the _Prophet_ you're together…'

'Ignore the _Prophet_ ,' I muttered crossly.

I was to gain some clearer answers later on that day regarding my compatriot and his fate. Some hours later, after I had drifted off to sleep in front of the fire, I awoke to find the man himself sitting across from me in his chair.

 _His_ chair — how fanciful of me.

I made a soft noise of surprise when I caught sight of him. How inordinately pleased I was to see him, too.

I pulled myself up quickly and rubbed a hand over my face. There was a book open on my chest and it tumbled to the floor. Luckily, it fell face down, and so I left it there. It was for the best.

'How are you?' He asked in his usual tone of disinterest.

'Fine, thank you; yourself?'

'Ridley has confessed to his role in matters and so the charges against me have been dropped.'

Considering how important a result this was, he might as well have told me his favourite cauldron had just melted for all the animation present.

I smiled widely. 'What a relief.'

He merely nodded and I cast around for inspiration. 'Tea?'

'Thank you, no.'

I held back a sigh at his formal demeanour. It wasn't fair… How could I be similarly put-together when I was lounging in my pyjamas in the early evening?

'By the way, do you realise you have half the journalists in Wizarding World hiding in the bushes of your garden?'

My jaw dropped.

'I'm afraid they saw my arrival.'

I sighed at length. 'They will write whatever they want, irrespective of what we do or say.'

They already had, in fact. I thought it best not to broach some of the rather pathetic and outlandish newsprint that had been devoted to us in recent days.

We lapsed into silence once again and I pulled uncomfortably at my attire. I wondered how to disperse the faint air of awkwardness that hung in the air. I wondered, even, why he had come if he was not disposed to, well, anything.

I cleared my throat, realising there was one thing I could ask. 'Would you tell me about, ah, what happened that night? I've heard bits and pieces, but of course, I remember nothing.'

Being subjected to _Obliviate_ was a source of huge consternation for me. Not only because I felt I should have reacted better to prevent it, but also, I had a taste now of how my parents had felt. The context was different, but the violation remained the same. It was not an easy thing to dwell on.

Severus nodded his acquiescence and proceeded to detail the events as he saw them. Unusually for me, I was content to simply sit there quietly and listen, with no questions or interruptions. I had to really concentrate and listen, because to hear him retell the story was almost akin to listening to someone read from _Standard Book of Spells Grade 1._ I had to interpret for myself those moments which could have been anxious, or dangerous, or disastrous.

And yet, impersonal as his rendition might have seemed, there were certain nuances that I could note. I knew that extended pauses indicated he was at pains perhaps to edit out any sign of emotion or melodrama. Far from being frustrated by this, I found it endearing. I should still have loved to have known truly what went through his mind, however.

Come the conclusion, I was impressed and I was grateful to him. In the grand scheme of things, I was relatively unscathed, but the potential had been there for far greater damage.

'Thank you, Severus, for rescuing me.'

A look of mild surprise passed over him and there was a hint of animation filtering through his countenance for the first time since I'd woken up. I wondered if it meant he had dreaded this recounting of that night's events?

'Is it not very regressive of you to admit you needed rescuing? And by a man, at that.'

I felt myself smile and give a flippant shrug. 'It seemed only fair to give you an opportunity after I rescued you from Azkaban that time.'

He closed his eyes as if pained.

I laughed, causing my bruised ribs to heave painfully and I clutched at them. 'Ouch; I forgot I can't laugh.'

I got to my feet to stretch out my body slightly. 'I'm never flying on a broom _ever_ again.'

He ignored me; he was reaching inside his robe for something. Out came a small, ornate jar, which he proffered towards me.

'I expect they gave you the cheap stuff at St Mungo's; try this for your bruising.'

I forced myself not to raise my eyebrows as I approached him. 'Thank you; that's very...kind.'

I chanced a surreptitious look to see if he would take umbrage at being labelled kind, but he didn't rise to my bait. His expression remained blank.

I'll try harder, I thought.

'Just need someone to rub it in me, now.'

He did blanch at that! His eyes shot to mine and they narrowed as if scolding me. I smiled and endeavoured not to laugh. 'You can manage,' he stated gruffly.

'Sometimes…' I replied lightly, turning and putting the jar on the mantelpiece.

I paused at the fire, wondering still at this proverbial elephant in the room — this heavy tension that had descended. My weak attempt at humour had not permeated it.

There was something I needed to say though. I felt serious once more and turned back to face him.

'I must thank you, Severus, truly, for aiding me in this. I never could have imagined getting here, with you, of all people, that day when we first met again in Edinburgh.'

It didn't take much to remember how foolish I'd felt that day. I looked at my hands, feeling myself smile as I continued.

'I never thought I would ever find it in me to be grateful for those troglodytes at the Ministry, or for your machinations at the start, but I am, because it means I have got to know you and —'

I trailed off sharply, because he suddenly flew to his feet and loomed large before me.

'Pray, do not thank me,' he warned urgently.

I simply stared, taken aback by his sudden energy.

'Don't thank me for being selfish, arrogant, dismissive, self-important and many other things that spring to mind. You deserve better, Granger; you could have easily pursued this by yourself — don't delude yourself into thinking otherwise.'

All of a sudden, he made to leave, but I managed to shoot out a hand to his arm to stall him. Our eyes met and his were like flint.

'Perhaps I'm thanking you in spite of those things,' I advised quietly.

He appeared to be momentarily speechless, for he only stared at me.

'I do not, actually, think you are those things that you label yourself —'

He snatched his arm away suddenly as if burned.

'I know who I am, Hermione, but it is of no matter; our business is concluded and there is little to further to be said on that score.'

'But what of our personal business? Are you going to pretend to be offended by those feelings that I have towards you as well?' I gave him a hard stare to emphasise the point.

'I'm not offended,' he snapped.

'Then what is it?' I questioned irritably. 'You simply don't want to continue our association, is that it? Well, fine; I'm a big girl. You made your thoughts on the matter clear once before.'

I folded my arms together with an indolent shrug and boldly considered him.

It was meant as a get-out for him. Of course, it was by no mean 'fine' to me, but I could sense his discomfort, and thought it might simply be easier for us both if he accepted my observation and left. I wasn't sure I was in the right frame of mind to get into an argument with him.

To my alarm, however, the more I faced him with such studied obstinance, the more his countenance seemed to soften. Indeed, when the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement, I felt a ripple of indignation swell.

Before I could scold him, however, he leaned down and kissed me. His hands were at my neck, holding my face to his. It was a brief contact, though. He lifted his head away and then sighed softly against my hair.

'If I were any other man, Granger, I should beg that you give me a chance to prove myself to you.'

Any breath that I had was painfully lodged somewhere down in my trachea.

'But I regret that I am not. If you lay your gratitude and kindness, and whatever else it is you feel, at my door, it will simply get trampled on, twisted up, and thrown away, in time.'

I shook my head slowly, trying to find my voice.

'It is true,' he affirmed.

He released me and took a step backwards. I was rather too dazed to do anything. He cleared his throat and spoke in a more loud and business-like tone.

'I'll bid you well, Granger, for the future. If… Well, I'm not sure what it is you could ever need from me, but my door is always open to you.'

 _This_ is what he wanted for us, above all else, and I felt crushed to know it finally. I felt the tell-tale sting behind the eyes and I grit my teeth together, determined not to succumb. I clasped my hands together to prevent them from trembling and I lifted my head defiantly.

'I'm not sure what it is I could ever need, either.'

His expression, frustratingly, never faltered. He dipped his head towards me in acknowledgement and then he turned on his heel and he left.

As easily as that, he left.

I felt numb, if truth be told. A few tears spilled out, I admit it, but I wiped them away fiercely. What was the point of breaking my heart over it? It was nothing I hadn't known might happen, deep down. He'd warned me that he was not prepared to engage in anything long-term.

I only had myself to blame.

And yet, soon the numbness gave way to infinite frustration. This was the worst part.

Because. I think he really did care about me.

If this sequence of events was bad, things took an unexpected turn for the worse when I returned to work a few days later.

There was no fanfare, of course; instead I was summoned straight into a meeting with not only my boss, but the head of the department, too. After some cursory pleasantries were got through regarding my health, the two of them exchanged a meaningful glance.

It was to be my immediate boss who would take the lead.

'Ah, we were shocked, Granger, to hear of your exploits these last few months. Especially after we expressly told you to drop the matter of investigating Augurey numbers.'

'I'm afraid I simply couldn't turn a blind eye…' I offered as diplomatically as I could.

They glared at me each in turn.

'You think we turned a blind eye? May I remind you, Granger, it was Severus Snape himself who _advised_ us.'

I gave perhaps a flippant shrug.

'You chose not to present all the facts, though, didn't you, Granger? For instance, you never told us you were colluding with Severus Snape. Did you deliberately set out to hoodwink us?'

I bit the inside of my cheek. 'I was not in partnership with Severus Snape at that point. You will have to speak to him to confirm why he said those things.'

I watched as the older man's jaw clenched.

'I admit I did not furnish this department with certain details, but only after it was made clear they wouldn't be welcome.'

'This department is now a national laughing stock thanks to your actions.'

'And what of the Augurey's that we have failed to protect?'

That was met initially with silence.

The other man took up the mantle now.'This meeting is about your conduct as a representative of this office — conduct which is extremely suspect.'

I only stared.

'Indeed, Granger, I never thought I would say this, but I have serious doubts about your commitment. Moreover, you clearly do not have the Ministry in your best interests.'

I nearly laughed aloud. It was obvious which way the conversation was going, and there was almost something epiphanous in the way it had unfolded. The way forward to me was obvious.

Fuck the consequences. Fuck them all, I thought.

I rose to my feet sharply and they both looked up in surprise.

'Gentlemen, I'm afraid I have somewhere else to be.' I held up my hand when they looked to protest. 'I'd like to submit my resignation to you, effective immediately. I see now my efforts will be better served elsewhere. Good day to you.'

With that, I left the room, entirely ignoring their stunned expressions. I strode through the office to my desk, caring not a jot for the eyes that followed my every movement. I packed up the few personal items that I had and then stalked out to the lifts. No one dared say a word to me.

It was only as I stepped out into the cold air of the street that I realised I was shaking. I Apparated into my living room and collapsed straight onto the settee. I felt slightly sick and I felt my eyes burn traitorously.

What had I done?

I swiped furiously at my eyes and made for the sideboard, whereupon I poured myself a tot of whisky. It burned deliciously in my throat and I closed my eyes gratefully.

I was free, but I was also jobless.

What would I do? How would I manage?

But in truth, I wasn't sure I really cared. Perhaps it was the culmination of events wearing me out, in any case, it felt oddly liberating.

I started laughing to myself, recalling the faces of my superiors as I'd left.

It was all over. Ten years of hard work extinguished in the work of a moment. I breathed deeply, over and over, thinking hard. It was an odd experience, because I never thought I could ever feel this blase about having no job.

I think, somewhere along the way, I'd come to see that my work wasn't everything. My life did not have to revolve around my various crusades. They did not have to give my life meaning.

As the day dragged on, however, and after I'd perused the latest offering from the _Daily Prophet_ , I felt my initial adrenaline rush drain into something more problematic.

Anger and frustration.

I focused in on my frustration, because I knew eventually it would give way to sadness.

I turned to wondering at the efforts I had put in, over the years, over the recent months, and what had I emerged with?

It was dawning on me that it might be absolutely nothing.

If anything, I might only have gained contempt. _More_ contempt.

Admittedly, I am no saint. I could feel personal joy at the success of securing the future of Augurey's and creatures alike, but I could also feel resentment as I wondered now what else was there for me.

The Aurors were considering charging me for providing a false statement over the matter of George Cresswell.

The Ministry was setting up a special team to deal specifically with trafficking, but…I was not to be a part of it. I knew the officials would blunder on as they always had, making the same ill-informed judgements and decisions. Criticism was like water off a duck's back to them — they'd play the game, sputter the usual lip-service about change, and then settle back into the old routine with not a care.

And then there was Severus. In that moment I resented his part too. He had resumed his position in the Society with much fanfare. No one deemed _him_ to be a trouble-maker, if anything, he was a revolutionary. No one questioned his motives, and yet _I_ was criticised for not being true to the Ministry. And the gossip surrounding our relationship centred not on him, but on my supposed ambition and ruthlessness.

I resented them all in that moment.

And so, what did I do to pull myself through the aftermath of the events detailed in this narrative? What did I do get myself back on my feet? What did I do to find a way through this mire of resentment?

I decided to to go to Australia.

It seemed a really obvious thing to do, looking back, but the idea did not hit upon me straight away. I was jobless; had the Aurors on my back; the press were having a field day at my expense and Severus had dismissed any need for my company. I was in danger of falling into a period of ennui that I might have struggled to get out of. The injustice that I felt, the seemingly pointlessness of my actions, and the frustration of my life in general all conspired together to leave me feeling rather miserable.

It was symptomatic of the state of my relationship with my parents that I did not immediately think to go and spend time with them. A holiday in the sun — what better cure could there be? What better inspiration could I find with a huge amount of distance and altered perspective?

Of course, my parents were aware of my situation, or at least, my somewhat edited version. I had to tell them lest they uncovered it from the more outlandish version of events in the press. Initially, I refused my mother's invitation on the grounds that I simply had to find myself work, as soon as possible. Not only that, but the cost of an international portkey might be too frivolous an expense for someone unemployed.

But as it became increasingly obvious that I had absolutely no idea what I would like to do, and when the Aurors finally decided I would not be charged with anything, I began to wonder if a break from it all might not be exactly what I needed.

And I was right.

I spent nearly three months there, in the end.

During those three months I was not idle. I was either spending my time helping out at my parents' dental practice or cogitating at length as to what I was going to do with my life. Admittedly, there could not have been many better backdrops for such contemplation! The warm sunny weather had gone some way to improving my disposition almost from my immediate arrival.

And having somewhat of a project — that is to get my life back on track — had given some focus to my interactions with my parents. A distraction to the ever present elephant in the room, which, of course, was Australia itself.

My parents were happy there and settled, there could be no doubting that. It became increasingly obvious to me that my guilt over what I had done was very much _my_ problem. They had moved on, yet, ironically, I had not.

I was keeping abreast of matters back home. I took the _Daily Prophet_ most days and I was in contact with the Potters and Weasleys, of course. The Augurey incident had died down as far as the press was concerned. This was not before they had reported that I had lost my job, however. They couldn't even allow me my resignation, with phrases like "jumped before she was pushed" and "position untenable" bandied about.

I won't even go into one of the articles dedicated to me in _Witch Weekly._

Inspiration as to how I was going to earn a living was still somewhat lacking, though. Harry had been keeping an eye on Owls arriving at my house and forwarded any on to me that looked important. I'd had a few unsolicited job offers — some people think they are so funny.

And as for matters of the heart, I had done somewhat of a good job in reconciling these. I say somewhat, because there were still times when certain thoughts consumed me, and I'd end up feeling sick to my stomach. There had been no word from him. In a particularly low moment I had started drafting a missive to him, but then I realised, disappointingly, there was very little to say.

What was the point in me spilling my heart out? Because for all the reasons why we should be together, there would be reasons why we shouldn't. And how could I truly profess to understand his psyche when there was much I simply did not know about him. I knew that I could not force the matter, and truthfully, neither did I wish to.

I think I'm an optimist deep at heart, for in spite of this dead end, I knew what we had had was a real, tangible thing, and so, could it be that one day, matters might resolve themselves in my favour?

It transpires that I was not wrong, because, as it happened, reality was infinitely much more accommodating.

After several weeks of my self-imposed exile, I'd started to develop a well-worn routine. The Wizarding World in the British Isles was such a small one, that there was much to be said about the anonymity I felt blending into the Muggle context. In the early evening, where the shade was easier to come by, I'd take a walk along the esplanade. Sometimes I'd simply walk. Sometimes I'd take a seat in a cafe and stare out across the bay with a cup of tea (or wine), or sometimes I would take a book.

The day in question, I was in my usual spot — in my favourite cafe overlooking the beach, shaded in part by an accommodating nearby palm tree. There was a chilled glass of white wine before me and my latest read in hand. It was always peaceful and this day seemed to be no exception. Until, that is, the chair opposite mine was suddenly dragged out from underneath the table and a figure folded itself into it.

I snapped my head up at the sound and flinched violently when I saw who it was. I snatched the sunglasses off my face and set them down with a clatter.

' _Severus?'_ I was completely aghast — slack-jawed and staring.

He shook his head with a pained grimace. ' _Really_ , Granger… Of all the places in the world you could go and you drag me to this… _hell-hole.'_

It was no hell-hole, of course; it might even be paradise to some.

If I had had more about me I might have laughed as he glanced around, scowling derisively at almost everything he could see. He shifted his chair marginally so that no beam of sunlight hit him squarely, whatsoever.

I set my book down (face down so that he might not read the cover) and I blinked at him in wonder.

'You look well,' he observed stiffly.

'What, ah...' I felt my lips tug into a smile and I put a hand to my mouth as if to wipe it away. 'What are you wearing?'

He glared at me and I had to bite my lip. He has sworn me to never, ever, recount his attire of that day. I will say that he blended in not unusually and therein lay the amusement.

'Clearly, we are no longer in Edinburgh, Granger, freezing to death, and so I have dressed accordingly. The only item I forgot to bring with me is my dignity, of course.'

I was dying to laugh now.

'Never mind me,' he continued, getting into his stride. 'What is it _you_ are wearing?'

I glanced down at my top and shifted, only marginally uncomfortable. It was a little odd, being that exposed before him.

I shrugged flippantly. 'It's nothing you haven't seen before.'

I was saved from hearing his response by the arrival of a waiter, to whom I requested two further glasses of wine.

'Better make them large ones,' Severus interposed giving me a look.

I simply raised my eyebrows.

'What are you doing here?' I burst out once the waiter had retreated. 'How did you find me?'

He folded his arms together. 'I am come to speak to you, obviously, and… Well, Longbottom told me you were staying with your parents in Australia, and when one month dissolved into two and no one could confirm your return, I decided I would have to take the initiative.' He frowned to himself, muttering under his breath, 'cost me enough, too.'

'Australia's a big place,' I pointed out.

'Minerva knows your parents live somewhere in Melbourne and with a little detective work I discovered where.'

'Why didn't you just go to Harry; he could have given you the address!'

He stared at me ferociously.

'Fair enough,'I murmured. 'How did you find me here? Have you been following me?'

'Only for a few days.'

My eyebrows shot up and my mouth dropped open.

'Relax, Granger; I could hardly turn up at your parents' front door, could I?'

Two wine glasses were set down. I considered him as he took a generous sip of his.

'What matters did you wish to discuss?' I asked contemplatively.

He did not look at me for a moment. 'You never told me you had lost your job. I found out days later from the _Daily Prophet_ , of all places, and by then you had already left.'

'I resigned,' I clarified primly. 'Though, admittedly I had very little choice. What could you have done, anyway — hexed them into giving me my job back?'

His eyes narrowed in irritation.

'Sorry,' I muttered.

'Actually, I am come to offer you a job.'

'A job?' My heart sank so completely I felt pain in my chest.

'Yes — at the Society. In the chaos you have wrought things will have to change. The Ministry will make some token gesture, but their incompetence is already clear in that they did not pick you for the task. The Society will have to step into the breach, but it is likely to need the full-time dedication of someone. I would trust no one else to do it but you.'

I said nothing for a time. I watched him and could see his complete and utter sincerity. And what a fantastic job opportunity it sounded, too. I would have bitten his arm off for such a chance, once upon a time, but right then I couldn't think of anything worse. Funny how things can become so very complicated.

I gave a small grateful smile. 'I'm honoured and flattered, Severus, but, ah...' I shook my head slowly. 'How could we ever work together…? We could not.'

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his face an impenetrable mask.

I smiled at him to show him that I was genuinely grateful. More than that, I was impressed that he should come all this way. He did not move to convince me to change my mind. In fact, he said nothing at all and this is how we sat for a few moments — in awkward silence. I picked up my wine glass and continued my observation of the waves.

'It's a long way to come, Severus, to offer someone a job.'

I didn't dare look at him. Still, he said nothing.

I drained my glass. 'Shall we go for a walk?' I asked, mostly out of discomfort, when the silence had elongated beyond anything that could be deemed companionable..

He was obviously lost in some reverie and didn't respond immediately. 'Very well,' he agreed.

We both got to our feet, and he must have caught my surreptitious glance at his legs, for he growled warningly at me.

'Say nothing, Granger.'

I nodded, smiling to myself.

We walked quietly down the esplanade. Every now and then I observed him alternate between grimacing and wincing at the environment around him.

'You hate this place, don't you?' I observed with a laugh.

'I'm sure it has charm for some,' he replied grimly.

'Merlin, that sounded almost diplomatic; are you unwell?'

He gave me a indignant glare, which I entirely ignored. I was beginning to enjoy myself; I'd missed how challenging it was conversing with him. Finding a quiet spot, I stepped up onto the low wall and onto the sand the other side. I sat on the wall and stretched my legs out in front of me.

'I was relieved to hear that Ridley has admitted to everything and so there will not be a trial.'

I was aware of him moving to sit beside me.

'They have not charged anyone else, besides those hired thugs. Are you disappointed?'

'A little,' I admitted.

The Aurors had yet to close in on the main orchestrator in all of this. I assumed my suspicion over the link to Malfoy Manor had been investigated, but then, nothing would have surprised me. They never would charge anyone else beyond Ridley and the others. A lot of the money that had been made couldn't be traced to anyone in particular. Eventually, the investigation was shelved.

'But in the main, I'm happy with the result,' I continued, brightly. 'And I'm happy to move on, now. It seems certain people enjoy seeing me fail, if that's the right word, but it no longer bothers me.'

He hummed a noise of agreement. 'You have been treated particularly poorly; I detect the workings of the Ministry in that.'

'No doubt.'

'I pity them; they won't be free of you for some time yet, I'd wager.'

I laughed. 'Perhaps not, but we'll see.'

'Would you ever consider staying here?' he asked suddenly.

I glanced at him sharply. ' _Here_? I suppose I have considered it… Sometimes it seems like it might be nice.'

This was the truth; a blank slate to start anew could be most inviting.

He was silent again for a moment.

'Would you come back with me, Hermione, if I asked you to?'

My blood seemed to halt in my veins and I felt tingling all over. 'Why would you?' I looked at him, but he kept his eyes forward.

'Well...' He paused momentarily. 'It is very foolish, I'm sure, but since you left... I appear to have developed a dull ache, somewhere in between my ribs, that refuses to subside. I have felt it for some time now, but it has lately got worse. I fear the only option was to come and find you—the cause of it.'

I stared stupidly at him.

'I find it eases somewhat, in your presence…'

I was dumbfounded. To be sure, my mind went blank and all I could hear was an odd rushing noise in my ears. It sounded like the waves on the beach were crashing in against my skull.

'I know I am neither worthy of your consideration or responsible enough to protect it… and yet, I am also so very selfish in that I simply cannot resist anymore.'

' _Selfish —'_

'Yes,' he interrupted firmly. 'My whole life has been one of repression, jealousy and resentment — a toxic mix that one cannot just cast aside easily.'

We were both silent, then.

'I always knew you weren't well-rounded,' I whispered finally.

I smiled gently at his subsequent mock affront. It quickly dissolved back into something serious, however.

'Perhaps you, yourself, have undergone a change of mind?' he asked. 'I would not resent you for it, after the deplorable way I spoke to you before.'

I looked at my hands, smiling to myself. 'I am not so capricious as you, Severus,' I gave him a teasing nudge. 'I loved you before and I love you still.'

How easy those words tripped off my tongue!

I got to my feet and looked down at him, feeling very much assertive. 'But what about you, hmm? What of those words you spoke before? Do you mean to chew me up and spit me out?'

I can laugh about it now. At the time, of course, there was nothing funny about it whatsoever. There was nothing amusing in the complete stillness of his posture and expression, nor in the way his dark eyes were wide and staring, and yet, oddly unseeing. I stood there transfixed also, stuck in some weird, awkward moment of unknowing.

Eventually, he blinked back into being. 'No one has ever said those three words to me, Hermione; that is my problem.'

He gave a shrug and minute though it was, it spoke of a whole lifetime of loneliness and disappointment.

'Ah, in that case you'd do well to ensure that I repeat them, often, so that you may get used to them.'

He nodded. 'You know, you still haven't actually answered my earlier question…'

'Oh, you don't want to move here?'

He gave a look of long-suffering. 'If you truly wish to stay, I suppose I would —'

I smiled widely, cutting him off. 'I will return with you, if you wish it.'

He rose to his feet. 'That is a relief.'

I think he meant to touch me or embrace me or do something, which was most welcome, of course, but…

In feeling such unexpected joy and relief, I also felt increasingly playful. Who could blame me for enjoying having the poise and assuredness in our exchanges for once? How often did I ever have the upper hand? And it was not for moments of cheap triumph anymore, for a while it had been simply for the pure pleasure of his attention and,I hoped, mine too.

I looked at him haughtily.'I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me — that it would only be a matter of time.'

His eyebrows shot up.

'And to think you travelled halfway around the world at that… I was unsure if you would succumb to that one, but, here you are…'

His expression now was one of real surprise. ' _Really_?' was all he could manage.

I burst out a laugh. 'No, not really, I am not so cunning. But I think I hoped, deep down, that a period of time might be benefit you for some self-reflection and reconciliation.'

'You are getting too big for your boots, Granger,' he warned, shaking his head.

I stepped into him to cut him off. I put my arms around his shoulders and held him to me. He was quiet for a moment, and then:

'Mind you, I would have been very impressed, my dear,' he whispered against my hair, 'had you indeed manipulated me in such a calculating fashion.'

My ears pricked up and I pulled back slightly. 'Oh?'

'Yes.'

'I see… Well, what if I tell you that I booked my return Portkey some time ago…'

He stilled in my arms. 'Then you never intended to stay here?'

I let out a cackle of amusement and shook my head.

As much as I would like to pretend I had knowingly orchestrated this conclusion, the fact remains I had not. I could never have expected from him anything as remotely spontaneous or sentimental as this.

But I was infinitely relieved by it. He had not said a great deal, actually, but in what he had done and said, I felt there could be little else to have better shown me so completely his depth of feeling and resolve.

And that was enough for me to give him a chance.

I'm not naive — nothing lasts forever and, perhaps, we wouldn't.

We would give it a good go, however, of that I felt sure.

Here then feels the right juncture to conclude this narrative. I had little to no idea what the future held and that was fine.

And whilst it seemed as though another chapter in my life had, indeed, come to an end, I found I was not disappointed. Things hadn't worked out in the way I might have hoped or envisioned once upon a time, but that, also, I decided was fine.

Because I often wonder now if know-it-alls fail remarkably in knowing what it is that's good for them, sometimes.

There were new paths for me to take and, the best part was, I wouldn't be beginning any of them alone.

FIN

* * *

AN: Who would have thought I'd finally finish this one? I certainly didn't when I started it however many years ago it was. I hope you all enjoyed and thanks so much for reading and reviewing.

I have no other stories in the pipeline, but I have enjoyed writing again and so never say never. Let me know if there is any particular story of mine you might like to see a sequel or companion piece to — perhaps that may be a focus for inspiration : )


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